For The First Time
by Ladyfun
Summary: The love story that never really finished... This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, and their resultant severed ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The same one that broke the Veela, so long ago... Endgame: Fleurmione.
1. Prolouge

**TITLE: Prodrome**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: Prologue story = T-ish; however, the main body inevitably will become M, _someday..._

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: Written for the Quidditch Competition, Round 4. The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This is the prodrome for the story of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover one of England's most famous citizens, a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N #1: This is a repost with some edits so you can understand the fragmented workings of my mind's eye. **

A/N #2 : Chapter 1 (the prologue) was origionally posted as "prodrome" for round 4 of the quiddich fanfic competition .

**Chapter 1. Prologue  
**_Place & Time: Scotland, Circa Year 4 at Hogwarts _

Convincingly, the brightest witch of her age had _almost _managed to persuade her friends, once again, by utilizing her stock tools of trade: _facts _and_ logic._

Those "go-to" tools, facts and logic, when layered upon the foundations of her fastidious research, generally made her invincible. After all, her argument was _foolproof_. There was nothing for the hapless other 2/3 of the Golden Trio to do, other to retreat _from her_ or to concede _to her, _as they often did. It was often a bitter pill they had to swallow, indeed.

This time, however, rather than retreat or surrender, Ron had reached his limit. He took the preferred route of many modern politicians, refusing to go down without a fight, despite his blatent ignorance. Harry inadvertidly compounded the problems, unfortunately. Ron employed the classic tactics of the _ad hominem_ attack; the approach that had been utilized, ironically, by much older wizards from both the Ministry and the Death Eaters _alike!_

Hell, it's even been known to elect American Presidential candidates _far inferior_ to those of their opponents, from time to time.

After all, If you can't debate the facts, _attack the person_.

They stood in the deserted hallway, after curfew, the invisibility cloak long discarded, as their tempers rose. The three were arguing, facing off, literally, in an almost comical triangular standoff. They all grew so frustrated, finally, that conversation ceased altogether.

The red-head spoke first.

"Bloody hell! You're such a _know-it-all_, Hermione! Clearly, your research kept you from brushing your hair…or putting on make-up… or doing anything like a _normal_ bird!" Ron lashed out.

Hermione looked at Ron, _clearly stung._

The third member of the Golden Trio, as it were, cleared his throat. Conflicted, Harry looked sheepishly between his two best friends. Finally, he nodded his head resolutely, interjecting. "Ron, that's utterly _not_ fair!"

Hermione and Ron both looked at the boy-who-lived, waiting.

He continued. "I mean, really, Ron! It's not like she_ neglected_ doing herself up, in order to go to the library to research this…right? I Ron, she said, "Really, Ron? That's the best you can do?"

Hermione's eyes were burning, as she stared at the two trators in disbelief. In an instant, she spun around, putting her back to her friends, obscuring the tears she knew were forming in her eyes. She ignored the feeble protests of "_Wait, that's not what I meant,'Mione!"_ From Harry, mingled with the _rude laughter_ from that stupid git_ slash_ ex-friend_ slash_ ex-boyfriend _slash_ waste of oxygen Weasley.

She took long strides away, attempting to put some distance between her and her so-called "friends."

Friends who _didn't even remember_ she hated the nickname "Mione."

_Merlin's beard! "Mione" sounded like a name for a pet gerbil!_ Hermione thought, in disgust._ It certainally didn't sound like appropriate nomenclature for me! And I've told them so, over and over..._

Stomping down the hallway, tears now flowing freely, she headed in no particular direction. Stopping to lean against the wall, and collect herself, Hermione heard the lumbering footfalls of Ron and Harry chasing after her, but she also heard something else.

She heard the familiar **_click, click_** that was now familiar in the Hogwarts' castle, as they echoed further down the hallway.

_Really? Can my day really get any worse?_ Hermione groaned to herself, her swollen eyes desperately seeking out _the source_ of the noise.

**_Click, click._**

That sound was unmistakable. It was the sound made by the expensive heels of the visitors from Beauxbaton's Academy. She could only hope the owner of the _clicking_ was sone of their random students she had yet to meet, as opposed to the other option. Option "B" was that causation of said clicking was none other than the _infamous_ _Champion_ from Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour.

Hermione was already too overwhelmed and too emotional right now to risk another confrontation with anyone...much less _her._

She wheeled around, eyes now wild, and desperately seeking a hiding place.

**_Click, click._**

With Harry and Ron approaching on one flank, and one undisclosed member of the birds of Beauxbatons closing in on the other, Hermione felt instant doom. Truly. This was the epitome of disaster for her...the Golden Girl. The one who was know for thinking, not _feeling_.

_There's going to be a whole lot of "feeling," arising soon, if I don't__** do**__ something!_ Hermione grimaced.

Looking around at the barren hallway with minimal furniture or statues, her heart plummeted in realization of the dearth of things that would be helpful in obscuring her. There was absolutely _no cover_whatsoever...in _any_ direction.

**_Click_****click.** The clicks were getting louder. That meant they were getting.._. closer._

"Merlin's beard!" Hermione groaned, realizing she was in quite the pickle. Swallowing, she worked up her nerve. The brightest witch of her generation lived up to her billing. With a quick flash of light, she did the incredible: she_ transfigured ..._into a_ house cat!_

Hermione, in her cat form, slipped behind one of the columns. While not a true "animagus," per se, she actually became a _Felis silvestris catcus _for all intensive purposes. Her daunting feat of transfiguration was_ certainly not_ a 4th year spell; no...Professor McGonagall would nary teach it to the most skilled of the seventh years.._.if at all. Hermione had been able to do this for months, unbeknownsts to _Professor McGonagall; like many things, this was a skill Hermione kept "under her belt", for when the time came.

**_Click, click, click._**_.._

Then the clicking abruptly _stopped._

Sounds of skidding, gasping, and the cacophony of people falling against something was heard. Hermione could hear a drooling "Bloody hell, mate! It's _her._..uh, you know...**her!** You know the one I'm talking about, Harry! Oy...It's that wanky Veela girl!" He let out a low whistle. _"She's so pretty_..."

Hermione fought the urge to gag. She didn't have to see Ron to know his complexion was now a hypoxic purple, from being so transfixed by one Miss Fleur Delacour's incredible thrall. Harry, thankfully, had the decency to not bellow his voice across Hogwarts.

"Yes, _I got it_, Ron! Now, _shhh!_" Harry hissed, quietly.

Harry knew, first hand, how uncomfortable it was to be talked about and judged based on really superficial issues. He was pretty sure that Fleur didn't like the attention she drew any more than he did...

**_Click, click._**

There they were. The heels of Fleur Delacour, as viewed from 6" above ground, in her present form. Thank god for the shadows._ "_

_"Pardonnez-moi, si'l vous plait_...I am **right in front** of you, Monsieur Weasley. _And I assure you,_" she paused, a borderline malevolent air filling the space, as the lovely Fleur Delacour came into their view, standing directly in front of them. She continued. "_zat I am far from ze deaf!_ My 'kind'," she said with an almost curtsy, egging Ron on, "as you alluded to...we do 'ave 'earing zat is...how you say... très bon?"

"Oh...uh, yeah. Um, that's good...um,_ hearing_ you got...and everything.." Ron fumbled.

Harry was rolling his eyes, Kitty Hermione noted from under the table. If she could do it, she would have as well. As it was, all she could do was listen and hiss quietly.

"Mais, oui! _So good_, en fact..._zat I heard even more _zan I zink you realize, Monsieur Weasley."

"What?" His head shot up, drool rolling down his face.

**_"I 'eard_** what you said about 'ermione Granger..."

Hermione's heart dropped. She knew she hadn't been exactly _kind_ to the French Veela in her time at Hogwarts; it's just that Fleur_ infuriated _her! Not like Ron infuriated her...with him, he just pissed her off, mostly. That was not the case with Fleur.

No, Fleur was an _entirely different ball of wax_, altogether. From the time she had set foot in Hogwarts, swooping over to the Gryffindor table to relieve them of their bouillabaisse soup, Fleur's piercing gaze had landed on the younger witch, Hermione, zeroing in one her, and staring. The Veela had left her feeling _stripped bare._ The exchange student made the Gryffindor_ nervous._

_Unsure._

_Self-conscious._

And in the few quiet moments of actual reflection she managed to obtain in her crazy life, Hermione would admit the truth to herself. In an extremely guilty admission, she realized that the beautiful witch made her feel _something else_ as well...

_Arousal._

She'd be _damned if she let her crush_...infatuation...whatever this "emotion" was, leaving her breathless when she saw a flash of the silken hair out of the corner of her peripheral vision..._show to the sophisticated visitor from Beauxbatons._ No, her life was just fine, without being ridiculed by French women. She was fine with the daily hazing she got from the English women, right here on her home territory.

But no ridicule came, from that particular French woman.

She would appear everywhere Hermione was, and pass a small smile; bump into each other in the library, and exchange a few pleasantries; even at the off hours she went to the study hall, the Vellea would be felt the Veela's eyes on her, everywhere she went. It made Hermione's plan to escape and evade much more grueling that originally planned.

And now here she was, witnessing the epitome of her humiliation; her most dark moments of friendship with Ron and Harry. Her alleged "best friends." Hermione was mortified. Once again, the Frenchwoman would surprise her. The kitty Hermione stopped daydreaming, hearing the French witch speak again.

"You call yourself a friend? Bah! You are no friend! You are a petty, jealous fool, Ronald Weasel!"

She turned to face Harry, next. "And for your information, Monsieur Potter, Mademoiselle Granger was _actually right!_ That is the correct application of zat particular draught was exactly as she explained to you! You are lucky to have a friend like 'er for charms and potions, oui?"

Hermione felt that warm tingling she had experienced before. Was Fleur Delacour actually _defending_ her?

"I would expect somezing petty from sat mouth brethzer, over zere," Fleur said, pointing in Ron's direction. "But you, 'arry? Your friend 'ermione must be devastated, non? Somezing along ze lines of "Et tu, Brute?"

Harry looked glumly down at his feet. Ron looked a strange mix of enchanted and angry, resulting in a generalized purplish-pink hue to his face.

Fleur spoke more gently, this time. "I know it iz 'ard...but really, 'arry." She put an hand on his shoulder. The Veela spoke gently. "_Your words create_ what you speak about. Learn to speak..._ positively._" She patted him on the cheek, and turned to go.

All three of them, however, let out a collective gasp, when Fleur practically crashed into a man standing in front of her.

"_I must say,_ Ms. Delacour, _I am impressed t_hat a French witch can quote someone like Sanya Roman! You have left me pleasantly surprised with your versatility." The kind eyes of Albus Dumbledore looked at her, amused.

Fleur opened her mouth, then wisely shut it.

"So...tell me this: what, pray tell, are the three of you doing out of bed, after curfew?"

Ron and Harry mumbled excuses, incoherently.

Fleur , however, after a moment, offered the Headmaster_ her_ reason. "Je suis désolé, mon proviseur! I was out looking for my familiar..." Fleur's eyes scanned the room. Hermione shrank in horror as she observed Fleur headed _straight for her._

In a delighted voice, Fleur squealed,_ "Voilà, vous y êtes !" _as she scooped the kitty in to her arms. Fleur made an elaborate show of show of kissing and petting her familiar.

"Oy! I didn't know the other students brought familiars!" Ron grumbled.

"Why wouldn't they? They're students, you idiot!" Harry hissed back.

Hermione, mortified, couldn't help but to let the deep_ "purrrrrs" _escape from deep inside her throat, as the French witch was _very skilled_ with finding her "spots," while scratching her fur. It wasn't long before, much to cat Hermione's horror, _Fleur was now kissing her!_ Well, "cat" her, _anyway_. She murmured little French sayings to Hermione, stroking her fur.

Nuzzling into her, Fleur whispered, "_I've missed you_, Mon compliqué féline!"

"What I'd give to be that cat..." muttered Ron. Hermione wasn't really paying attention any longer, but she was pretty sure she heard Harry kick him in the ankle.

"Very well, Ms. Delacour. Now that you have retrieved your ... familiar, you should return immediately to the Beauxbaton domicile."

"Bien sur, Headmaster." Fleur said, with a graceful curtsey, holding her kitty tight to her chest. " Jusque à demain, Monsieur Potter...Weasley." She added. As the **_click click_** sounded as she walked away with her cat, Fleur hummed to herself.

The Headmaster called out, with a parting statement for the Veela.

"Oh, and Ms. Delacour? _I expect you will return your familiar_, Mrs. H.G., to her rightful location, _in the morning._..."

Fleur flashed a wide grin over her shoulder. "But of course, Professeur ! _C'est entendu!" Fleur's cheeks were slightly red, but other than that, her expression gave away nothing. _She resumed stroking her kitty, who was purring in her arms, contentedly.

Fleur grinned the entire time she "**_click click clicked"_**away.

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

The sun was rising, and the smile had seemingly not left Fleur's face _all night_ as she leaned her forehead against that of her younger British companion. Her cerulean Blues twinkling, the beautiful Veela let the smallest of breaths escape as she spoke.

"So...I _have to ask._ I tried, 'ermione, ma belle,_ I did_. I tried to defend your honor. Were you 'appy? Did I _make ze argument_, ma amour?" Fleur asked, her smile now wavering, slightly. "Do zey understand, now? Zat you cannot be treated like zat? _Zat you are __**mine**__?"_

The last part slipped out.

Fleur held her breath, as Hermione considered her question. Fleur fully expected a small dissertation; from her past observations of the bushy-haired girl that had _so enraptured_ her inner Veela, Fleur knew Hermione would never utter ten words if _a thousand_ could be uttered, instead. She smiled, thinking of her little verbose witch….

Fleur's eyes drifted upwards, a confident smirk on her face.

She regarded the student from Hogwarts closely. As she took in her companion's expression, Fleur's smirk faded.

Hermione, although still seeming dazed from Fleur's unexpected "revelation", had a frown on her face. _A frown!_ A myriad of expressions passed through those brown eyes, as she looked up at Fleur, clearly measuring her next words carefully. The fact she had taken so long to consider a reply could portend many things, Fleur astutely realized. The result? The ordinarily confident Fleur Isabelle Delacour, Champion from Beauxbatons, was _losing her swagger._

Fleur pondered to herself, wondering if she somehow... _misunderstood_. _Perhaps she had inadvertently misread the signs? Had she been wrong about Hermione?_

The young woman from Beauxbaton reflected.

_Had she been wrong about what this young girl would become to her, someday?_

She regretted immediately her impulsivity in stealing the girl's first kiss, much earlier, when they had arrived to Fleur's room, and the older witch laid Hermione down gently on her bed. Nothing much had happened; not really. They two witches got to know each other. They _talked._ They _laughed._

And they_ kissed..._

_What was I thinking?_ Fleur thought, beginning to sweat, slightly. _What am I still thinking?_

Every second Hermione didn't reply, the blonde was beginning to feel like a caged-in animal, her eyes becoming darker. Fleur glanced around, attempting to remain impassive appearing, while looking for an avenue of egress to escape this horrible faux-pas. Her troubled eyes roamed nervously, inadvertently meeting Hermione's dark brown ones directly. Eyes locked in and focused_ directly _on the Veela, before her.

Fleur could feel herself sweat, slightly, as reality came crashing down on her in rapid fire:

_Hermione was barely 15 years old! Hermione was widely reported to favor that _red-headed boy_ twerp! Hermione favored...boys._

Even if she didn't, Hermione was unlikely to favor her.

_Tragic! _Fleur snorted, to herself._ Fleur Isabelle Delacour, the champion from Beauxbatons...hopelessly in love with an English girl. _More than in love_, in fact._

Hermione voice brought the older witch out of her troubled revere via its extremely soothing tone. Hermione spoke gently, reaching for Fleur's trembling hands.

"I believe the question on the table is_ this_…" Hermione began, her frown dissolving. She was staring at Fleur's hands that she had grasped. Hermione spoke deliberately, reflecting what she wanted to express to the older girl. "Fleur...you want to know if you _made the arguments,_ adequately?"

Fleur nodded, speechless. The combination of Hermione's mind reading, coupled with the fact the younger witch had moved into the Veela's personal space in a few mere seconds, made it hard for the normally poised young woman to _find words_ all of a sudden. Hermione was smiling, with a knowing look. The Gryffindor simply nodded back, in acknowledgement, as she spoke.

"Well, Fleur..._ after some consideration_, I would have to say, my reply is simply _this_…."

Hermione was leaning in towards Fleur, with such a determined look that it caused the older girl to tremble. Fleur took in the brunette's dilated pupils, rapid heartbeat, and increased respirations of the girl before her, her Veela's senses kicking in. However, Hermione's countenance belied the nerves her body obviously felt.

Observing her, Fleur was frozen to the spot. Unable to move, to think, to _understand fully_ what was about to happen to her.

Hermione's lips, those piquant delights that she had stared at her entire time at Hogwarts, were coming towards her. Fleur was mesmerized, watching the woman's gorgeous mouth move towards her, dumbstruck. She stopped starting at their trajectory only when they arrived at their final destination, landing firmly on her own, her long lashes fluttering shut.

Fleur couldn't really describe the moment, it happened so fast; words would not do it justice. Warmth filled her from her core; the world seemed to lose a dull-colored, returning with a luster she didn't expect.

And she felt warm..._for the first time_, actually.

The drafty castle that had been her place of duty for the last few months no longer seemed dark, damp, and cold; rather, it was colored with an entirely different palate. Every sense she had felt sharpened with just that singular kiss.

Oddly enough, the _suddenly minimalist_ Griffyindor girl would eventually utter a response. Her spartan comments would light Fleur's heart on fire.

"Did you_ make _the argument_?_ _Hmmm._ I would have to say …**yes**." Hermione sighed. "_Yes_, you impossibly gorgeous woman! Yes, you_ made your argument_, Fleur..." Hermione looked at the beautiful witch, her eyes sincere. A large smile crept across Fleur's classically sculpted face upon hearing Hermione's qualifier:

"Oh, yes, Fleur Delacour, _you charmer_, you! You made the argument, one would say, so.. hmmm. _Rather._.."

She leaned in towards Fleur, her closeness clearly intoxicating to the Veela. Fleur's eyes fluttered shut again, as her lips that had been hungering for those of the English girl next to her, were _finally_sated.

The last word Fleur heard, before she lost complete control, was Hermione's breathy exhale near her ear:

"_...convincingly."_

_TBC_


	2. It Had To Be You

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N #1:** Reloaded, with updated version with time hacks

**CHAPTER 2. It Had To Be You.  
**_Place & Time: Outside London, Circa Present Day  
_

* * *

The businesslike pair looked back and forth between each other, one of them clearly nervous. Approaching their intended target, objective locked in plain sight, the younger of the two began sweating profusely.

Noting the increased production of bodily fluids, the elder commented, "What's wrong with you, man? This isn't your first day at the rodeo!"

'Yeah," he agreed. "But it is the first day our mark _was a Veela! _I'm a little nervous, that's all."

The experienced redheaded female made no attempt to hide her rolling eyeballs. She said curtly, "Nerves, huh? That's was they're calling it those days? Okay..." she said. "Let me give you some free advice: _that's exactly_ why you're **wrong**. You approach this mark exactly like _any other_ money mark."

The senior auror walked towards their target, confidently. The sweaty junior partner was left to merely observe the following interaction. The redhead spoke, after a moment of consideration, to the mark.

"Hello, Fleur. It's been a long time."

The disinterested blonde's cerulean blues fluttered across the face of her visitor, with a brief disregard, followed by a grimace quickly passing across her face. She stubbed out her fifth cigarette in the nearby overflowing ashtray.

She exhaled. "Oui. It _has_ been quite some time, Ginny Weasley."

The older redheaded auror collected herself in the face of the glacial greeting. Putting a jaunty smile on her face she said, _"Always a charmer,_ Delacour. Then _and_ now. Also, merely for informational purposes, it's actually Ginny Potter." Only Fleur noticed the frown that remained at the corners; she enjoyed it.

"What can I help you wiz, Mademoiselle?"

Ginny gritted her teeth, the older witch clearly intent on disrespecting her.

"Well, we were wondering if you had heard anything from a certain someone..." Ginny asked, open ended.

Fleur's eyes darted about, suspiciously. Ginny's partner was already vacant-eyed, so taken by the Veela's thrall, Fleur noted with disgust. She lit another cigarette, in a most unhurried manner. After a moment she said, simply,

_"Oh?"_

"Mind if we have a look around your booksmith?"

Fleur shrugged. "_Quoi que ce soit d'autre._" She took a long drag. "I would assume zat you have some _little papers_ in your pocket zat allow you to inspect, regardless of if I mind or not, _c'est vrai_, Weasley?" She looked at the redhead evenly.

Ginny chuckled. "Yep. I do. I thought I would at least go through the formality of asking, anyway."

"Well, at least you had the manners to not address me as "Phlegm", so I suppose that's something." The French woman said, taking a drag, regarding the woman standing opposite her.

Ginny smiled. "Yes, there's that. _People do grow up_...**Phlegm**." Ginny turned and motioned her thrall-addled partner down the steps happy to be done with him, and deploy him to some use. _Wake his ass up, a bit!_ Have him look for evidence, earn his keep, other than drooling over Fleur Delacour, all day. As he bumbled off, Ginny turned to regard the thin blonde woman who was still disgustingly beautiful, but clearly missing some of her past glamour since she last saw her.

When she last saw her, Ginny realized, was a memory the two women would both be unlikely to forget.

**XOXOXOXOOXOXO**

_Place & Time: The Burrow, England, Circa 2 months Post-Hogwarts_

* * *

"Oh, _fuck_..._fuck!_ Fleur, **yes!** _Ohhh_...like that, baby...there, just a bit deeper! Fleur, I just...I just..._I need you!_"

The Veela growled, in the affirmative. "_You have me_, fucking hell! Your sweet body...mmmm...Y_ou have all of me,_ Hermione..."

"Oh, Gods, I want more! I want you fucking deeper, _in me_, Fleur!"

Hermione's pleasured moans were coming through the doorway, leaving one Ginny Weasley, standing on the other side of the the door, arm poised to knock, before she heard the moans. Ginny stood there, _completely frozen._

_Merlin's Nutsack!_ Ginny fretted. _Now what the hell am I supposed to do?_

Ginny, unwillingly, had been sent up to tell _Phlegm_ she had five minutes left before the wedding processional was about to begin. Ginny had been sent, primarily because her _Maid of Honor_ seemed to be missing in action, and Mrs. Weasley was in a state. As a result, she had sent Ginny to do Hermione's dirty work. Grousing, Ginny trudged up the stairs to Fleur's ensuite.

Listening through the door, she realized she had_ inadvertently located_ the missing Maid of Honor; more important, and she also realized that Fleur Delacour likely didn't give _two shits_ if the wedding processional started in five_ minutes_ or five_ years,_ from the sounds of things!

_What to do...what to do.._.Ginny angsted, mulling over options in her red head.

However, Ginny was a Gryffindor, through and through; and so she summoned up her courage, and pushed open the door. Gazing downward, she burst into the room, and aimed her addressed comments towards her feet rather than the room's indisposed occupants.

"You know, there are these things called _silencing spells_, ladies!" Ginny informed the two sweaty females. "Er, um... I have been sent, by the Weasley matriarch, to tell you the wedding processional is due to start in_ five minutes_, if anyone cares."

She turned hurriedly to made her escape, but not before she saw a sight she wouldn't be able to unsee, ever: Fleur Delacour had partially transformed into her Veela counterpart, and was riding on top of a wanton Hermione "straight as an arrow" Granger.

Hermione's dress was pushed up and bunched past her waist, her hair was a mess, and her eyes were_ wild _with lust. Purple hickeys covered her, everywhere, from where the Veela had obviously marked her. The bodice of her dress was ripped open, exposing Hermione's curves, her nipples erect and presently being manipulated by Fleur's claw-like appendages despite Ginny's presence in the room.

Hermione didn't even bother glancing at Ginny, _so enraptured_ was she in that moment.

What also did not escape Ginny's flabbergasted eye for detail, in addition, was a most curious thing. Ginny noticed that there was an obvious _extra appendage_ that Fleur's Veela possessed, hanging squarely between her legs! That bit of anatomy was was now obviously painfully erect and was presently being used to drill like a jackhammer into Ginny's _former best friend's opening_ ... between her legs! _And Hermione was letting her!_

Clearly, Hermione was doing more than just "letting" her, actually, as Fleur sported multiple long scratches down her back, presumably from Hermione's hands from earlier...Ginny felt the heat of embarrassment and shock flood her face. She stood there, unsure, for what seemed like forever.

It was then, that a _frighteningly calm_ voice reached Ginny's shocked ears.

"_Zank you_, Ginny. We vill be downstairs..._Dans un instant." _Fleur dismissed her, with an impersonal audacity. "Please_ leave now_, and shut ze door behind you, s'il vous plait. _Merci._"

Without even realizing that _they didn't have the sense to be embarrassed,_ Ginny did as she was told. She quietly shut the door, and walked robotically to her older' brothers' wedding downstairs. She rejoined the wedding party, in utter disbelief. However, Ginny said nothing, as she watched the Veela become her brother's wife, thirty minutes later. Ginny said nothing, as she watched Hermione's jawline set, refusing to let her own emotions influence the day's events. Furthermore, Ginny said nothing as she had a nagging feeling that that would be the last time she would see her friend.

Much later, she told her famous husband; but by then, it was too late.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXO**

_Place & Time: Outside London, Circa Present Day_

* * *

Ginny cleared her throat.

"So...Fleur. When was the last time you saw Hermione Granger?"

Fleur laughed bitterly. "C'est drôle, Mademoiselle!" Fleur looked away, speaking quietly. "Ze last time I saw Ms. Granger, was when _you observed me_ seeing **all** of Ms. Granger, n'est-ce pas?"

"At your wedding?"

"Oui."

"Is that a yes, on the record?"

Fleur rolled her eyes. She exhaled her drag. "_Yes."_ She said, deliberately.

Ginny nodded. She paused a moment, looking around. "A bookstore. Huh! _You know_, Delacour,_ I never pegged you_ as much of a ... reader."

The Veela clearly bristled at that. "I beg your pardon?"

The British auror had clearly touched a nerve. "Yeah. I would have placed you as more _a shoe store or fashionista_ kind of merchant."

"_I finished at ze top of my class_, Mademoiselle Weasley!" She said, bristling.

Ginny huffed, equally irritated. She noted her partner had finally returned from the downstairs and was nodding at her. "Ms. Delacour, f_or the last time_, it's Madame, not Mademoiselle; and my name is now Potter, not Weasley!" She stood up, preparing to leave. "But call me what ever you want, because we're going to ask you to come downtown with us, Fleur."

"And what am I being accused of, exactly?"

"Nothing.._.yet._"

Fleur finished her cigarette and looked around the room. Methodically, she got up and walked to the front of the store. Ginny noted she walked with a small limp these days. She locked up the front door of the store, and headed back towards the two aurors.

"What ze hell, why not? _I hate zis store_, anyway! Ze ministry might be a welcome change of pace." She rose to collect her purse, and a scarf.

They watched her, carefully, for anything out of the ordinary. When nothing presented itself, and she merely sauntered up to them, The male auror finally spoke, nervously. "So, er, ahem...if you dislike it so, well...why did you buy it, Ms. Delacour?" He asked.

She looked at him with the faintest trace of sad eyes as she muttered her response. "It was un rêve, I'm afraid! How you people call it..._a "pipe dream."_ But it's done now." She said without a trace of humor, as they prepared to floo back to the Ministry.

The French Veela looked at neither one of them as they left her bookstore.

_A pipe dream, huh? _Ginny thought to herself._ Interesting..._

**TBC!**


	3. The Tender Trap

**Chapter 3: The Tender Trap**

**TITLE: For the First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N #1: updated**

**CHAPTER 3. The Tender Trap.  
**_Place & Time: Downtown London, Circa Present Day  
_

* * *

The Potters were all business. "Has the Eagle landed?" Harry asked his wife, expectantly, seeing her return and her strident march into their office.

Ginny sighed, the responsibility of bringing in the difficult French witch one she had not been looking forward to...at all. She nodded, wearily. "Yes, dear, the proverbial Eagle has landed."

"Any collateral damage?"

"No, actually. In fact, Phelem just.._.came_. No fuss, no muss."

"What?" Harry asked, in disbelief, clearly expecting his wife to have to put up more "coercive" arguments. "Why would she just..._willingly_ come?"

A voice interrupted them from the back of the room. "Perhaps because _I am curious._" The weary Veela said, shocking both of the Potters. Harry' s head swiveled around to the back origin of the voice.

_"Fleur!_ Hello, Fleur." He said, attempt to sound warm.

Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor of the Ministry office, as she walked slowly towards them.

**_Click, click, click...click._**

The French Veela did not share their jocularity. "_I asked myself,_ 'self, why would two such_ important aurors_ like as Harry _fucking_ Potter and Ginny Weasley Potter be interested in little ol' me?'_ C'est tres peculiar,_ non?"

They looked at each other, nervously.

The Veela continued, clearly not amused. "Since I zink zis iz not for some deranged purpose of a menage-a-trois, of some type- I can only zink it is because you need **me** for some reason. You need **me**to get_ to someone else._ And you are baiting me, making me zink I'm framed for some zing, to ensure my compliance with _ze somezing else ..."_

_"That would be considered entrapment,_ Phlegm. We can't legally do that." Ginny interrupted, coldly.

"But..." Harry said, quietly. "We_ are_ sort of doing that, Fleur. Perceptive of you, mate! Er... We believe you are the last person to see Hermione Granger, present and living, actually."

"So?"

"What would you say, knowing that, Fleur?" Harry continued, patiently.

Fleur's face grew impassive. "I don't know...how about 'hooray?' I mean, what do you want from me, Harry?"

Harry's jaw was set. Fleur was itching for another death stick. However, her fading mind was still enough to grasp what was at stake.

"C'mon, Harry, this is ME. Look, none of this iz new information. I 'aven't seen 'ermione zince ze wedding, years ago! You've know of my involvement, you've known what I know. Why ze interest now...years later?"

"Hardly years, Phlegm. _A year._"

Fleur made a clucking noise with her teeth. "Almost two. Regardless, _its old news._"

"Old news, huh?" Ginny said, her livid temper boiling underneath the surface. The Veela detected the increase in Ginny's heart rate, saw her nostrils flaring...this girl was downright hostile towards her still. "Old news, perhaps. Interesting, though, that "Old News" results in two people dead..."

"Two?" Fleur arched her eyebrows.

"Yes, my brother- your husband, Fleur! And our person of interest, of course..."

Fleur's mask cracked slightly. "Dead? I zought you said. .." desperation in her voice. "You never said she was...'ermione was...dead."

"Zat's because_ I didn't_, Phelegm!" Ginny's voice, laced with bitterness. "No, our person of interest, actually,_ is your mother._"

For the first time, Fleur looked genuinely shocked. Real emotion crossed her expression. "My...my maman? Pourquoi?"

Harry's face looked grim. "Some new, um, evidence has recently come to light."

"Impossible. Plus, this crosses jurisdiction. You do not have authority over the French jurisdiction..."

"The evidence originated from England." Ginny cut off. "Therefore, it does involve us." She looked somewhat satisfied as her words appeared to startle the older witch, whose jaw was now set.

"Gin..." Harry warned. The boy who lived was still her senior, and her boss in the department. And Ginny's tactics, while usually successful, were not going to get results from Fleur, he wisely assessed. Plus, he had a plan of his own.

"What, Harry? Look..you've let this go, long enough! She was involved in her mother's death...you know it. Secondly, she is clearly involved with Hermione's missing status, and likely death, as well."

Harry ground his jaw, sensing that a dangerous transformation was close for the blonde. He hadn't expected his wife to trigger the suspect so drastically; however, he had underestimated the residual anger they held for each other, and the anger and grief Ginny, his wife, harbored still for her beloved older brother's death. Ginny knew Fleur was somehow involved in him accepting a suicide mission for the Ministry, a _mere two months_ after their wedding day. He had become a hollow shell of his former self, and had looked miserable, all the time.

_"We know you did it,_ Phelgm! _There's been evidence to show _you may have been involved in Hermione's-_"_

**_"Silenco!"_** Harry cast a quick silencing spell on Ginny, who was clearly loosing her professionalism. He cast her a warning look. "_Fleur is __**not**__ implicated i_n Ms. Granger's disappearance, at present, Ginny." He reminded her, as he removed the silencing spell.

They all looked at each other uncomfortably.

"May I smoke?" Fleur asked, quietly, the events overwhelming her slightly.

Harry nodded, and he watched Fleur visibly calm after finishing a smoke. Ginny, irritated by Harry's action, was glaring at their suspect, who was coughing slightly. Harry couldn't be sure, but after she coughed, he thought Fleur might be deliberately blowing her smoke at Ginny.

"A letter came to light," Ginny said, "from my brother, William Weasley..."

"I am familiar with ze man." Fleur smiled, sarcastically.

"...Suggesting that you deliberately withheld your mother's medicine from her?" Harry finished, gently.

Fleur's face was neutral. "Impossible. Ma mere took no medicines. You can verify zat with her physician." She looked triumphant.

"Well, yes, the doctor...he did confirm that."

Fleur looked smug.

"But he did also say, he knew Veela's sometime took medicines prescribed by Veela healers, and he would have no way of knowing what those were, or even what the prescription might have been."

Fleur shrugged, nonchalantly, knowing full well they would never find a Veela that would betray another Veela to the muggle or wizarding world. They were a tight lipped, secretive group. She sensed she was right, looking at the glance that passed between the two ministry officials.

"It sounds to me like you have nuzzing more san a bunch of innuendoes, issued from a jealous dead man!" Fleur sneered. "Please - you are wasting my time. I am not well, and I am done here, now." She stood to leave, and was actively restrained by Ginny's wand, in her neck.

"Sit down," the redhead growled.

Looks of pure hatred passed between the two women, alarming Harry Potter. "Ladies..." He said, attempting to placate the situation.

"Miss Delacour," Ginny hissed. _"When was the last time_ you saw Ms. Granger? Was the last time you saw her, you know, that time when you were _fucking her,_ thirty minutes before you married my brother,_ in your matrimonial home?"_

The bite was obvious.

Harry sighed, looking a little shocked at the crass manner in which Ginny asked the question. His eyes flicked toward Fleur, expecting to see a hurt or an even rightfully angry expression.

What he saw was neither, however.

An evil grin occupied the Veela's face, rendering her beautiful but somewhat threatening. She leaned forward, her face close to Ginny's, exhaling a puff of smoke in the Auror's direction, as she leaned down to speak.

"_Mais non_, Mademoiselle Potter." Fleur said, with a controlled viciousness. "Zat was **not** ze last time I spoke wiz her." She halted, taking another long drag. Looking Ginny dead in the face as she said it, she licked her lips. "I spoke wiz her after zat."

"You spoke with her... after your wedding?" Harry clarified.

Fleur nodded, her eyes never leaving Ginny's. "Oui, Monsieur Potter." She paused, for effect. "I 'saw' her twice _after_ ze wedding, at ze reception, in fact," Fleur's eyes were baiting the younger woman. "At ze reception, you know, where I saw her, and where I **fucked her,** again...and again..."

"_You bloody slut!_" Ginny screamed. "You did that to my brother, _after you married_?"

"Non, Mademoiselle Weasley, actually... I did **zat** to_ Hermione_, not to your brother!" She laughed, wickedly. "More specifically, I did zat...to her ass, to ze swollen area between 'er legs...to her, orally, as well..._ I did all of zat, to 'ermione_, **not** to Bill. Never to Bill, actually! Whatever I could zink up to do to her zat night.._.I did._" She said, malevolent tones in her silky voice. "And she let me, over her own moral quandary, Ginny Weasel."

Ginny looked furiously at Fleur, so angry she was unable to speak.

The blonde grinned broadly. "You see, _zere is nothing more arousing to a Veela_, zan ze aphrodisiac of making a prude like _Hermione Granger_ lust so heavily zat she would pleasure me wantonly, regardless of your so-called _English sensibilities_! A desire and lust _so strong_, zat she was willing to _fuck me_, over and over, screaming out my name...while my 'usband stood, literally in ze next room over, wiz his overbearing, ignorant family, non?"

They both jumped to their feet, simultaneously.

Standing face to face, the two adversaries readied themselves to hex each other to oblivion. Fortunately, Harry still had his Quiddich_ lightning quick reflexes,_ and he stepped between them and pushed them apart. It was with some alarm that Harry noted Fleur's eyes had turned from their normal blue, to a golden hue with red flecks.

Harry grabbed his wife's arm. "Ginny, I need you to step into the break room. I'll take it from here." Harry said firmly.

"You can't be serious, Harry! _This bitch-"_

"Is no longer a suspect in Hermione's disappearance. And while adultery is certainally in poor form, it is_ not_ a crime, Ginny." He reminded his wife, calmly. His eyes looked apologetic. "_ I need you to step out, Gin._ You promised me you could be objective, and you broke that promise to me."

"But Harry!" Ginny was protesting.

His voice was firm. "I'm sorry. Please step out."

She nodded, but her fury was still seething below the surface. She cast a fiery glare at Fleur. "We're not done,_ you filthy Veela!_"

"Iz zat a threat, Mademoiselle?"

"No," she replied, leaving the room. _"It's a promise_." Ginny slammed the door behind her, giving Harry a a dirty look as well.

After a pregnant pause, Harry looked sheepishly at Fleur, who was growling, mumbling to herself, while smoking her muggle death stick. He waited a moment before speaking again.

"Well...that went well, as expected, huh?" He said.

Fleur blinked, and the two former tri-wizard champions looked at each other. The old friends started laughing, in spite of themselves.

"Zat went...brilliantly, I should zink." Fleur said, coughing. Her coughing did not cease, and Harry grew concerned.

"Fleur, can I get you something?"

She shook her head. "Non. Zere is nozing...I'm fine."

"You don't_ look_ fine, Fleur."

"Monsieur Potter! How unchivalrous - insulting a lady!"

He had gotten up and poured her a glass of water, bringing it over to her. Without a word, he slid it in front of her, motioning for her to drink. She cocked her head, pulled out her wand, and murmured a quick incantation. Appearing satisfied with the results, she took a long drink, draining the glass.

Harry watched her, eyebrows raised. "What was that little mumbo-jumbo beforehand?"

She smiled. "Just checking for veritaserum. Standard operating procedures." She cocked her head. "Remember, I was an Auror as well, Harry, once upon a time."

He shook his head. "I know, Fleur. A great one, actually. _Veritaserum_...I thought you knew me better than that, Fleur."

"I thought I did, too. But ze little stunt...bringing _ma Maman_ into this crap...and your bat-shit crazy wife, 'arry. Forgive me if I am a little...concerned."

"Naaah...I wouldn't use veritaserum. I'm going to use my charm, Delacour." He pulled something in an envelope from his briefing notes and slid it over to her. Silently he gestured to her, as he incanted silently a written note to her, mid air.

**_F- this is the letter. This is the original - if it is misplaced somewhere...these things happen. Don't speak out loud about this._**

Fleur read the note, nodding her understanding. Harry then spoke. Out loud, he said, "Fleur, you're in_ very serious trouble_, my friend." However, he was furiously writing at the same time, more in his mid-air note to Fleur.

**_The walls have ears. This "evidence" is a letter from Bill addressed to you, while you were married. It is not admissible in court, the Wizamagot would never accept this evidence. Private correspondence between married people, legal privilege. We couldn't have done anything with it._**

Fleur nodded, in understanding, at her old friend. "You zink zat **you**, little boy, and _zis Ministry_ can scare me? Bah! I am a Veela!" She pulled out her wand and composed a note back.

**_They want you to intimidate me? Why?_**

"I don't need to scare you, Fleur. The dementors at Askaban will do that for me. Bollocks, Fleur, _how could you kill your own mother?_"

In contrast to his spoken words, Harry continued writing a very different message.

**_Intimidate you, so you will help with the investigation._**

Fleur cocked her head. She wanded back, **_What investigation? _**Out loud, Fleur made indignant noises, slamming books, papers, cursing in French. "You...you..._Stupide ministère officiel!_ I did not kill my mother...zat is the imagination of my jealous dead husband."

"Jealous...why? Because of your extramarital affair with Hermione Granger?" He said, firmly.

In her snittiest French voice, she purred. "Perhaps, je ne sais pas, Harry. Who knows what goes through ze mind of a dead man?"

"I guess we can let the Wizamagot sort that out, my dear. _Unless..._" he paused, dramatically.

Fleur rolled her eyes. _This was over the top._ She wanded a mid-air note to Harry, **_What investigation, for the second time?_**

He scrawled back, furiously. **The****_ disappearance and likely hostage taking of Hermione. We received a communication from her, she's alive, Fleur!_**

Fleur gasped, collapsing into her chair. She closed her eyes, steadying herself. _"Mon dieu_." She murmured, softly. Louder, for the benefit of those listening in, she hackled, "Unless what?" She said in her most disdainful voice. "_Unless what_, Harry? I wasn't born yesterday. What is it that you ... or the higher ups.. want me to do or say?"

He chuckled. "Well, I can always count on you to see reason, Fleur. We received a communication from your...er, friend, Hermione Granger. It was a self-detonating enchanted howler. I'm afraid I'm going to have you hear it in the pensive of my collected memory, Fleur. We didn't have the wherewithal to record it otherwise, it was unexpected."

"Let me see." Fleur said.

She stuck her head into the misty pensive, already ready for her on top of his desk. Fleur was captivated with excitement, looking at Harry's memory of the red ball that came barreling into his office. It was distinctly Hermione's voice - just hearing it made Fleur's heart beat rapidly.

_"Harry - no time. Send Fleur! She is the only one that can stop this. I don't know how much longer I can hold the wards- the magic is growing too strong for me..."_

Then the ball unceremoniously exploded.

"She's alive..." exhaled the Veela, a few tears straggling down her face. "Merde...she's alive, Harry!"

"Yes." He said carefully. "She asked for you, so..._we need to send you._"

"Well, why didn't you just come right out and ask, damn it? " She said, anger rising in her voice.

He cleared his throat. "Well, we had to make sure it wasn't **you** that was the one imprisoning her, for one. There are many here who thought that might be the case, my wife obviously in that party. Secondly, we knew of your - how shall I say it, rather colorful past with Ms. Granger. We weren't sure if you were going to be inclined to assist, or not. You parted on not very good terms, is my understanding."

She scoffed, out loud.

Mid-air, Harry wrote, to Fleur:

**_We've sent two different aurors and one search and rescue team to try to rescue her they're all dead. Splinched into a million pieces. I am not allowed to tell you that. This is going to be very dangerous, Fleur._**

"Have you sent a team out, yet, to ze trace?"

"Well," he said carefully, "we are still working to pinpoint the actual location of the hostage. Plus, she requested you specifically. "

Fleur rolled her eyes. Sometimes the government bureaucracy really sucked. Harry didn't look pleased, either.

"If I agree to 'elp you find 'er...that's a big IF...will I have back up?"

"Of course, Fleur." He wrote out **_remote back up, only._**

She snorted. **_That's a death wish._**

**"**The recovery of the Golden Girl is a top priority to the ministry, Fleur. I'm hoping you'll consider this."

"When did you get this 'owler?"

"A week ago, today."

She stood up, indigent. "A week ago? The trail could have gone cold by now! She could have been moved! Or..or...worse!"

She wrote furiously. **_They've likely reinforced the wards, with all of the botched search and rescue attempts!_**

**_No shit, Fleur! I'm pissed! Look..._****_._****you're****_only here today because I threatened to quit and find her myself, after telling the Profit of their lack of effort for the Golden Girl._**

"Why did you not summons me earlier, Monsieur Potter?"

"The reasons I mentioned before, Ms. Delacour. You were a suspect in two questionable situations. Plus, your resignation and choice adjectives you made regarding the Ministry when you left the Auror ranks..."

"Okay, okay, I get it. Time's wasting. Let's go."

"What, now?" He said, stunned.

"Did I stutter? Oui! M_aintenant!_" She said, stubbing out her cigarette. "Well, almost right now. I think I should go to the ladies room first, before apparating. We don't know how far it is, after all."

Harry chuckled. "Spoken like a veteran."

"Please, Monsieur Potter. Get ze files, any background information, so I can prepare myself."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, there is none. One day she was here...then, poof! She was gone. Without a trace."

Fleur looked incredulous. "And no one- no one- in this entire stink in' joint was able _to trace her?_"

"Nope."

"Mon Dieu!" Fleur exhaled. "This is someone very, very dangerous, who 'as 'ermione, I zink."

Pausing she wrote one last note to Harry:

**_Your wife - was all of that Mishagas for show, as well?_**

Harry wrote back, his eyes sad:

**_No, sadly, that was actually her. I don't think you'll be making friendship bracelets anytime soon._**

Fleur snorted, laughing. "Ahhh...Monsieur Potter!" Covering up the source of her laughter, she said, "I was zinking about you when ze Goblet spit out your name. We always seem to find ourselves in impossible situations, oui?"

"Oui." He said, nodding. He watched her take long strides to the door. Holding the door handle, she looked back at her friend.

"Well?" She said, standing impatiently at the door. "Tout suite, 'arry! Le temps c'est de l'argent! "

Heading out to face what was likely_ imminent death,_ Fleur had to admit to herself that she _felt more alive_ than she had in months...

**TBC**

A/N #1: a bit of artistic Liscence here. Fleur and Bill are living together and not married yet in the Shell Cottage section. They will marry after the Shell Cottage scene. Just roll with it, please…


	4. Why Can't You Behave?

**A/N #1: **Okay back to real chapters, I have revamped the title-age on the previous chapters; if you are so inclined, feel free to re-read, if you didn't feel th

**Chapter 4. Why Can't You Behave?  
**_Place & Time: Downtown London, Circa Present Day  
_

* * *

Harry looked at the determined Veela, who was suddenly reminiscent of the Fleur he once knew, not this shell of a person she had become. Specifically, his thoughts flew back in time, to a horrible period they had all shared together, years ago...

_Place & Time: Shell Cottage, the Coast of England, Circa Year 7 at Hogwarts  
_

* * *

"Oh my word!" Bill said, stunned. Yelling upstairs, he cried out for his girlfriend. "Fleur, come quick! Bring your wand!"

Fleur, recognizing the alarm in Bill's voice, practically apparated downstairs.

"What is it ...Mon Dieu!" Fleur's eyes were wide, as she took in the battered trio, the boys essentially dragging a bloody Hermione Granger between them, and levitating the corpse of a House Elf behind them.

Fleur wordless rushed over and scooped up the nearly lifeless girl, the Veela's mind snapping into action. The boys eyes were pleading silently for help.

Fleur moved to them quickly, taking Hermione's collapsed body from them. She handled the frail girl with unbelievable care.

"William...see to ze boys and ze elf! I vill take 'ermione upstairs and do ez best I can- she is not doing well."

"Right-o. I put your healers bag in the upstairs closet."

Bill and Fleur wordlessly snapped into action, healing and tending to the three wounded Gryffindors. They had oddly been give no advanced warning from the Order that the trio would be seeking as asylum with them. But then again, only Dumbledore knew exactly what they were up to; or there whereabouts.

Harry and Ron were in much better shape then Hermione, and later recounted what had happened to them and Dobby to the young couple.

When they finished telling them about the torture Hermione had suffered at the hands of the certifiably insane Bellatrix Lestrange, fleur flew off the handle, spewing of a prolonged rant of expletives in French.

When she regained her sensibilities, the three males were staring at here, dumbstruck.

"I dunno what you said, Fleur, but it sounded sexy as all hell!" Bill said with a grin. Ron nodded his agreement.

That seemed to only annoy the French witch further.

"You zink zat zis is a joke, William? You zink zis is funny?"

"Of course not, dear, I was merely-"

She cut him off, standing abruptly at the table. Slamming her hands on the table she said passionately, "I was barely able to keep her alive William! Had Zey arrived even ten minutes later, I doubt I would 'ave been successful..."

She sighed, slumping down.

"We're all scared, Fleur." Harry said, gently. "We all care about her."

"Not like I do, mon ami, not like I do..." Her voice trailed off, and she exchanged a sad look with Bill.

"What are you going to do, now, Fleur?" Bill said, gently.

Her face covered, she said quietly, "I need to floo ma grand-mere."

"The Veela healer? It's that bad?"

"Oui." She said, sadly. "Zat 'orrible beetch has embedded dark magic within ze very core of her body! It exceeds my skill level, and it iz not safe for zem to travel to a healer, wiz ze death eaters looking for zem."

Bill cleared his throat.

"Will she ...help you, Fleur? Given the identify of the patient?" Bill asked hesitantly.

"What choice do I have, William? What choice do any of us have, frankly?"

He nodded, in understanding. "Well, we should all head to sleep then, as Fleur will have to wake up at 2am with the time difference. How is Hermione sleeping?"

"I gave 'er a sleeping draught. She's out, finally. Her nightmares are…assez féroce, I'm afraid." Fleur said, a pained look on her face.

Harry and Ron were too exhausted to follow most of the conversation, but they were glad that the Veela had had the wherewithal to administer the draught, and that their friend was alive and finally resting.

They agreed to Bill's suggestion, and trudged upstairs to their makeshift room, happy to finally be sleeping on a real bed, once more.

XOXOXOXO

Ron woke up from a nightmare, feeling the effect of the Cruciatus curse, burning through his body.

He awoke with a start.

After he got his bearings, he realized sleep would elude him; he headed downstairs to do what Ron did best: eat. As he made his way silently downstairs, he heard the soft melodic tones of his future sister-in-law talking fervently to someone in the fireplace.

It didn't take long to realize it was Fleur's formidable Veela grandmother who was the recipient of her conversation.

"Ma puce…is it wise? It will take much from your body, to heal the wounds you have described. You will have to sacrifice some of your Veela essence to counter zes effects, ma chere." She sounded worried.

Fleur sighed, heavily. "You know ze answer, grand-mere."

"C'est vrai…I do." The older woman sighed. "I will tell you, Fleur, of course I will. She is a brave and noble soul, zat 'ermione Granger."

Fleur said nothing, but Ron could see her nod her head to the affirmative.

"Ma puce…tell me again, why you are not following your heart? It iz so clear to me, you are deeply in love."

Fleur stood abruptly, and began pacing along the rug in front of the fireplace. She was clearly agitated, and her expression livid. "Grand-mere, we have been through zis a zounzand times! You know the Veela tradition, and ze responsibility of ze first born!"

"Bah, tradition!"

"It is my duty to produce an heir, to continue ze Delacour lineage."

The older woman nodded. "It is also your duty to honor your one true mate, my dear."

Fleur threw her hands up, exasperated. "Do not torment me with what I cannot have, dear Grand-mere!"

The older woman grew thoughtful. "But you will die, without 'er."

"But I will die without William, as well."

"Mais non, he is not your true-"

The younger Veela cut her off. "I am aware of what he iz to me!" Fleur slumped down, into the couch, looking exhausted. "I 'ave no choice. I am bound…you know my two cousins were not able to continue the line…you know Gaby does not prefer ze company of men, as I; you know what I am duty bound to do, Grand-mere."

"You always have a choice, dear one."

"No I don't!" She shouted, with fury. Her hands extended, due to her extreme frustration, into talons. Ron grew frightened, but didn't move. The Veela continued, her voice harsh. "Maman made me swear…swear…to uphold the Delacour honor! I made the…" her voice broke.

"No!" The healer said, voice hushed. "Tell me Apollene did not ask zat of you!"

Fleur nodded, sadly. "Maman made me swear it, with ze Unbreakable Vow."

"What?" Her grandmother exploded, in utter disbelief. "No…Apolline couldn't not 'ave…Mon Dieu! _Elle ne pouvait pas être si cruel_ ..."

Ron could feel the sadness running off Fleur in waves. It was horrible, a horrible choice. His fatigued brain grappling with the fact she was in love with the same woman he thought he was, but promised to his brother. Denying either would ultimately lead to death for the woman in the improbable circumstance.

_Bloody Hell!_ Thought Ron. _Damned if you do, damned if you don't…._

The Veela healer corrected her expression, realizing the very thing Ron had just grappled with. Softly, she told her favorite grandchild, "Bien sur, ma puce. I will help you help your 'ermione. Besides, if she and her two friends are as important to ze outcome of ze war, well, you really have no other option, do you?" She exhaled. "My dear flower… Here is what you do…"

Fleur leaned in closer.

"Fleur, you must give her_ a piece of your essence._ Skin to skin, you must lay, for as long as it takes. You will then incant the following healing chant, thrice in the morning, thrice at noon, and thrice as the crow flys south…"

With that, she spoke the language of the Veela to Fleur, making her say it over and over until the inflection was absolutely perfect. Once perfected, the stately woman gave a grave warning to Fleur.

"_Listen closely:_ once this is done, once she has healed…you must never be …Comme vous le savez…**_ intime_**, Fleur. It is imperative you follow zat."

"**Intimate?** What do you mean, Grand-mere?"

"Kissing, for example. You must never give her _true love's kiss_…"

"But Grand-mere! I have kissed 'er, my 'ermione, dozens of times! Intimately!"

Ron's face burned red. _When had Hermione kissed the French witch? Surely not while they had been dating? Right?_

"Fleur!" She hissed. "You are being deliberately daft! You kissed 'er when she was a mere fifteen years old!"

Fleur's face fell, with realization. "Ah. And now, she is seventeen, almost eighteen years of age."

"Oui. She is seventeen, now! Ze age of consent, as a witch. If you give 'er zat kiss, it will start—"

"—Ze bonding process." Fleur said, with glum realization. "I give you my word, Grand-mere. I will not attempt to kiss her."

"I love you, my dearest Grandchild. You will contact me when you are done. And remember, this will leave you weaker, until your Veela core can rebuild…if it ever does."

Ron watched the face of Fleur's grandmother leave the fireplace with a snap and a pop, and he was left feeling incredibly sad for the woman on the couch.

That is, until a hex zinged past his left ear, narrowly missing it by a hair.

"Bloody hell!" He shouted.

"Ronald?" Fleur asked, confused. "Vat are you doing? Wait – tell me you 'ave not been zere, zis entire time…."

He walked into the light, sheepishly. "Oy! I'm sorry, Fleur. I accidently caught part of that block of instruction, and there was no good time to excuse myself…"

Fleur shook her head, annoyed. Ron was surprised she did not jump up in a fit of rage. The silence that sat between them was uncomfortable, and was broken when he gingerly put his hand on hers.

"I 'spose I should be more upset, really, that you fancy Hermione, ay? But…I think I knew it, deep down, all this time. The two of you have always had this weird connection, y'know? "

"I know." She said, sadly.

"Why in the world would your mother force you into this? It's so..fucked up!" Ron said, angry for her.

"For ze same reason William will lose his inheritance wizout an 'eir, Ronald. He is also ze first born. Ze laws in France are not zat different from England."

"But you don't love him!"

She paused, regarding him, cooly. "Perhaps non, Ronald. 'owever, I _care about him_ a great deal. Because of his lythancaprotpy, the human side of 'im is not so affected by my thrall. He is ze first man I have ever 'ad an intelligent conversation wid, without 'is eyes going vacant."

Ron cast his eyes downward, knowing he was one of the worst.

Fleur chuckled. "Ronald, _your eyes_ never became vacant…althozgh you did turn a lovely shade of purple, in zee beginning, non?"

"I'm sorry, but I keep coming back to the fact that Hermione is your rightful mate. I mean, I'm no scholar, but Hermione taught us a lot about Veela, during our fourth year. I think I recall her saying, if you find your mate, and let them go…" He paused.

"…we will die. Oui. Il est vrai."

Ron let out a low whistle, as he ran his hands through his hair. "And what she was saying…how weak will it make you, to heal 'Mione?"

Fleur shrugged. "I do not know, Ronald. There is no way to know. But really, what choice do I have? If she asked me for my head, my heart, my eyes…I would have to give it to her." She looked at Ron, with pained eyes. "I 'ave no choice! She is my…mate."

Fleur struggled to get the last word out. It hurt, tremendously, to make it real by saying it, aloud.

He nodded, handing his wand to Fleur, handle first.

She looked at him, confused. "What iz zis, Ronald?"

"My wand, Fleur."

She rolled her eyes. "I am aware of zat! I am asking…why?"

He looked at her knowingly. "Because, Fleur, you know that this knowledge cannot be shared, especially the Veela traditions. Even if I mean well, I could be tortured, or something. You know what you have to do."

She looked at him with a new respect.

"And you are giving me your wand, so zat zere are no residual echos to be traced to mine, I take it."

"Well then. Look who's finally with the program!" He grinned.

She lifted her arm, to cast the spell, when he raised his arm to halt her. "Fleur, wait!" He looked at her, chewing his lip. "I …. I don't know if its possible, but if you can somehow leave the fact that you're …you know, "weakened," by doing this for Hermione, I would really appreciate it."

"Why? Are you planning to duel me, Weasley?" She said, eyes joking.

He looked at her, seriously. "You're mental, Delacour!" They both laughed. "No, I just think…even if its in my subconscious, it would be nice if someone knew you're not up to your prime…for some reason. Please."

She nodded, raising her arm to cast the inevitable spell. It came out in lilting tones, as Fleur Delacour cast her spell at Ron, using his own wand.

"Obliviate."

**XOXOXOOXOXOXOXOX **

It took a full four days. Four days, Fleur pressed against Hermione, murmuring the Veela incantation. Hermione's body shuddered, racked with pain, the first day. Harry wept, openly, hearing her pained cries. It led to Bill casting a silencing charm across the room, for which Fleur mouthed a silent "thanks" to him.

Ron was pacing, angry.

"I'm going to fucking kill that blood bitch, that pure blood maniac, someday! The torture never ends, for 'Mione! And its killing Fleur, to have to heal her, that damn Bellatrix Lestrange!" He growled.

Bill looked at him, curiously. _"And you know that_, how?"

Ron looked at him, confused. "I thought _everyone _knew that – its how the Veela heal people!"

Bill shook his head. "Blimy, Ron…I'm marrying one, and I didn't even know that!"

"I guess you better get your priorities sorted, then, shouldn't you bro?"

**XOXOXOXOX**

By the fourth day, Hermione was herself again.

By the fourth day, Fleur was exhausted, and pale white.

Hermione was now comforting _her._ Despite the fact Hermione had fully recovered, they remained naked, pressed against each other. Hermione was running her fingers, through Fleur's gorgeous silver white hair, enjoying the feel as the strands slipped through her fingers. She enjoyed the tiny shudders that ran through Fleur with her gentle touches, caressing her scalp, even more.

Truthfully, when they had a loss of contact, when one had to use the loo, or Fleur went to get them food downstairs, Hermione felt such a well of emptiness, it was pathetic.

So she stayed, nestled in Fleur's arms, both without clothing, lying skin to skin.

"Fleur…" She sighed. "Why…why does it feel _so good_?"

"What, ma belle?"

"This. Us. You…holding me, I guess. _All of this_."

Fleur nestled in, closer, to Hermione, knowing their days were numbered. "Ah. It is just because of ze 'ealing properties zat my skin has imparted to yours, 'ermione. Zat is all."

"Liar." Hermione chuckled, kissing Fleur's forehead, absent mindedly.

Fleur tensed up, feeling the lips upon her forehead. Abruptly, she got out of bed, putting distance between them, and wrapping a robe around her body.

"I will go downstairs, now, a share ze good news zat you are 'ealed, save zat 'orrible marking on your arm…Harry and Ron have been itching to get back to your hunt."

Hermione nodded glumly, feeling like all of the air had been knocked out of her. "Okay, yes…fine. Thank you , Fleur."

"De rien." She said, sadly, as she headed downstairs, shutting the door behind her.

**XOXOXOXO **

Four days after that, the trio had loaded everything into Hermione's horrid pink purse with the flashy sequins. Fleur hated that purse, and everything it represented.

She had not been a stranger, exactly, in the past four days; but had she ensured that she and Hermione had little to no physical contact.

Fleur didn't trust herself.

As Bill and Fleur waved goodbye to the trio, Fleur headed back into the cottage, tears brimming from her eyes, while Bill watched his younger brother and his two best friends walk off.

_When did we stoop to sending off children to fight the grown-up's battles? When did we stoop that low?_ He wondered to himself.

Hermione came to a standstill.

"Guys…wait here. There's something I forgot…I'll be right back. Don't move."

The two groaned aloud. It had taken forever to drag Hermione away, and it was almost lunchtime! They had lost so much time already, hunting for the remaining Horcruxes.

Hermione practically galloped back to the cottage, nodding to Bill as she ran past him.

She threw open the door, eventually finding what she had left, upstairs.

Fleur.

"What the-?" The started French witch said, eyes red rimmed with tears. "What are you doing here, 'ermione?"

"I forgot one thing…" Hermione said, quickly closing the gap between them. She pushed Fleur's shoulders down, causing her to tumble backwards, falling with her back on her bed.

Hermione was pressing against her, the entirety of her weight on top of the Veela, who's breaths were now erratic.

"'ermione…" Fleur moaned, her breaths shallow.

"Kiss me, Fleur. Kiss me goodbye."

"Non…ma belle. I cannot do zat."

"But….we've kissed before?"

"Zat was a long time ago, 'ermone. I am not in ze position to kiss you today."

"Oh…" Hermione said, eyes drifting to a picture of her and Bill on Bill's endtable. "I see."

Fleur shook her head, as though to clear her brain. Her expression was palpable, as the hurt was in Fleur's eyes.

"I will zink of you, every day. I promise you zat." Fleur said, closing her eyes, a tear running down her face.

"You can't kiss me, or you won't?" Hermione said, quietly.

"I … I just …" Fleur stuttered.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Look, Fleur, we are going off into the belly of the beast, again. I may not be so lucky this time. And I would die a thousand deaths, if I didn't have one last taste of you, Fleur. I love you…and I always have." Hermione looked down at the beautiful witch, pinned underneath her. "Look, Fleur…I. Fleur… I'm going to kiss you, now…."

And with that, Hermione leaned down, and planted a kiss for the ages, on Fleur's lips, until she heard the boys calling for her downstairs.

"Goodbye…" She whispered, standing up, tears flowing down her face.

She looked like she was going to say something, but changed her mind. She turned, and headed out the door.

That would be the last time Fleur would see her, until the Battle of Hogwarts, a few months later.

**TBC**


	5. Love And Marriage

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N #1:** Reloaded, with updated version with time hacks

* * *

**CHAPTER 5. Love And Marriage  
**_Place & Time: Battle of Hogwarts, Scotland; Circa Spring of 7__th__ Year, Hogwarts_

* * *

"'ermione? _Where are you_?" The frantic French Veela, very much a warrior, was jumping out of the way of the debris, the south wall of the great hall crumbling around her as she ran. Chunks of marble and mortar narrowly missed crushing her skull. instinctively, Ron had been fighting, close behind her for some inexplicable reason.

He narrowed his eyes. Rodolphus Lestrange, the fucking git!

The cowardly Death Eater didn't even have the guts to take on the former Triwizard Champ head on; he was sneaking around the corner, his wand leveled at the Veela's head.

He got ready to fire off his unforgivable, and Fleur, just a hare of a second to slow in spinning around to counter it with a _Protego_, braced herself for the inevitable.

She heard the spell. _"AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

_I love you, 'ermione_…she thought to herself, bracing for death. But death never came. She opened her eyes, and took in the scene before her.

Lying dead, Lestrange was in a crumpled heap, with a shocked Ron Weasley standing behind him, green smoke pulsing still from his wand.

"Ronald! Oh merde! Thank you…" The gratitude in her eyes was palpable. "I haven't really been—"

"—Yourself." He finished. "I know. Not since you healed 'Mione. I know. Oddly, I know." He shook his head, trying to recover from the fact he had killed a man. A despicable one, nonetheless, but a human being all the same. "Fleur, _what's say_ we have a go, and see if we can figure out where that bushy haired lady has got to, ay?"

"This way." Fleur pointed, sniffing the air.

"How do you know?"

Fleur looked at Ron, arching her eyebrows. "Really?"

He looked nervous. "Er…never mind. But that's bloody brilliant, Fleur!"

"_Merci_, Ronald. Let's go."

They took off sprinting, arriving in time to hear in one of the classrooms a familiar cackle. It sent a collective chill down both of their spines. Fleur burst into a dead sprint, down the long hallway, with Ron following, close behind.

"Oh no!" Wheezed Ron, realizing Hermione was trapped in a room with her former tormentor. He watched, as Fleur took off even faster.

"Not on my damn watch!" The French Veela said, feeling renewed, charging forward.

They could hear Bellatrix Lestrange's crazy monologue continue through the heavy oak door at the end of the hall. "..._And you brought a little blood traitor_ also, to play with us, mudpuppy?" Fleur stutter-stepped, momentarily, wondering who the second unfortunate person was in that room.

Bellatrix spoke again. "I love the ménage-a-trois, pet!"

Ron's blood went cold as he heard the next spell, as it found it's recipient...

"_CRUCIO_!"

Ron blanched. A_ horrifying_ scream issued from his sister, Ginny! As her wail pierced the air where Ron and Fleur were running, chills ran down his spine, again. Even _more chilling_ was the moment it stopped, unnaturally.

"No!" Ron screamed, running behind Fleur. "_Faster_, Fleur! That was Gin!"

"Merde!"

Arriving at the door, the Veela didn't bother with her wand. Fleur _kicked it open_ with a strength Ron had never seen. The metal hinges literally snapped off the door, and the heavy doorway fell straight down, with a loud clanging noise, in protest.

Ron and Fleur ran into the room, and gasped.

The sight that beheld them caused the Veela to _go ballistic._ The world became infused with a gold red haze, and she set her jaw, wand drawn. In that moment when they burst into the room, the two saw before them a maniacal Bellatrix, a crumpled heap of Ginny, and an unmoving Hermione. She stood, transfixed. Her clothes were ripped, she was bleeding, and her hand shook as it struggled to hold her wand.

Fleur would never forget that moment. The moment she saw her strong and heroic Gryffindor, standing there, paralyzed by a long-ago fear, unable to move, her wand shaking...

The look on the face of Bellatrix as she realized she had unwelcome guests became _furious._

"Oh, so you brought your _little French bitch_ along, too? You're a real slut, Muddy!" The sadistic Death Eater cackled. "But that's okay… Bella likes to play! The more the merrier, Mudpuppy!" She cackled again, leveling her wand towards Hermione's heart.

Hermione looked catatonic, frozen in her tracks.

Fleur willed her to move, but nothing happened. Bellatrix was escalating; as she continued looking at Hermione with her wand pointed at the young girl's heart; it ws not the girl who held her focus. Oddly enough, despite her wand on the Golden Girl, she was addressing comments leveled directly at_ Fleur._

"So..._you're_ the bitch that stole my Muddy's heart, ay?"

Despite the grave situation, Fleur managed to looked shocked. "Beg pardon?" She said, as though she were asking a question her professors at Beauxbaton's.

"Oh, yes, Frenchy...I saw the _most pornographic_ images of Muddy's fantasies of you... you_ bad girl!_ Made _me_ want to _play with you,_ if the real thing is half as delicious as her_ sick-as-fuck_ desires suggest, Veela-girl!" Her eyes flicked only momentarily towards Fleur, and she laughed while concluding. "I think Bella might have some fun!"

Fleur wasn't listening to her words, which she knew were meant only for the purposes of distraction. Instead, she focused on Bellatrix's wand hand, and what **it** was doing. At the moment, the dark witch was initiating the movements of her famous unforgivable curse. Fleur had little doubt as to what was going to happen, as did everyone else in the room._  
_

Yet, Hermione seemed paralyzed on the spot.

As the Death Eaters lips moved, to incant the famous unforgivable, Hermione watched her, but didn't move. She didn't run. Hermione didn't blink. Most importantly, she didn't _defend_ herself. Fleur knew she had to act.

"_Noooooo_!" Wailed the Veela.

What happened next was nothing short of astounding. Faster than the human eye could register, Fleur transformed onto her partial Veela form. She sprouted wings, hurling her body between the unforgivable curse that shot with green fire out from Bella's wand, and was headed directly towards Hermione. Fleur cried out in agony, as the Crucio hit the airborne Veela squarely on her chest.

She stopped mid-air, crying out in pain, before she hit the ground, unconscious.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXO**

_Place & Time: Three Days Post the Battle of Hogwarts, Scotland; Circa 7__th__ Year  
_

* * *

Fleur opened her eyes, slowly. Quite frankly, she wished she hadn't; every square inch on her body protested in acute pain. She had a spitting headache, the kind that makes one wish they could just remove their head altogether. But the sight the awaited her made it _all worth it._

_Hermione._

More specifically, Hermione..._ alive. _The relief that filled the Veela's being was palpable. She closed her eyes, uttering a quiet "Zank_ 'era_!". Louder, she cried out, "You're alive!"

Hermione looked up with a start.

The peaceful look that Hermione had been sporting, as she watched Fleur sleeping, quickly vanished. The serenity quickly morphed into fury.

"Fleur Isabel Delacour!_ What the bloody hell_ do you think you were doing, _throwing yourself_ in front of a deadly curse like that?" Hermione was seething. "You could have died, you insane slag!"

Fleur smiled weakly. "Zat would be preferred to _you_ dying, Ma trésor." She said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hermione shook her head, tears falling uncontrollably. "You almost _did_ die, Fleur! If nurse Pomfrey weren't so talented, you..." Her voice trailed off, refusing to consider the alternative. She looked down.

Fleur chuckled. Attempting to lighten the mood, she lamented, "For someone never enrolled at 'ogwarts, I sure 'ave gotten acquainted wiz ze inside of zis infirmary, oui?"

Hermione's face etched with pain. "_You find this amusing_? Fleur, I have been sitting in that chair," she pointed to a very uncomfortable green relic of a chair near Fleur's bedside, "for going on 72 hours straight! I prayed to my muggle God, that I don't even _believe_ in, and begged for you to wake up!"

The Gryffindor was crying, in earnest, now.

Fleur face became apologetic. "I am sorry zat I caused you worry, 'ermione...but I cannot say I would do anyzing differently." She looked at the girl she loved; she couldn't deny she loved Hermione with her_ entire being_. In a softer voice, Fleur said, "I 'ad ..nor 'ave any ozer choice, ma belle."

Their eyes locked.

"You've _felt it,_ as well. Haven't you, Fleur?" Hermione asked, her affect guarded.

Fleur sighed. "Felt what?"

Fleur knew exactly what the "it" was that Golden Girl was referencing... the undeniable pull towards each other, the feeling of connectedness. As though wading through a fog, Fleur's mind suddenly snapped out of its somnolence, registering what Hermione had said. Fleur had just glossed over her comment, as that pull had just become second nature to the Veela. Fleur had lived with it, since she was seventeen; the inexorable pull towards the younger witch currently standing next to her.

It had become a constant presence in her life that she simply didn't question.

Fleur was used to the want that consumed her. It felt familiar to her inner Veela. That was understandable, but what wasn't was how Hermione felt the same pull. It shouldn't be there, a human...for the _very human_ Hermione Granger...

Fleur attempted to hide her panic. She willed her voice to remain calm. "Tell me, please...as 'onestly as you can, 'ermione. I need you to describe sis feeling you have, for me. If you could put it into words...what iz it zat you feel?" Her eyes bore into Hermione's.

Hermione's gaze wavered, and the younger woman looked haunted. However, she didn't shy away from answering. Licking her lips, she began. "Describe it? Well, okay. I think...it...it has been the_ hardest_ two months of my entire life, Fleur!"

She looked away as she finished her thoughts. "To be physically separate from..._you_. That's how I feel. I feel lost." She turned back to look at Fleur, nervous for her reaction. She bit her lip, nervously.

Fleur thought it was he most adorable thing,_ ever._

She nodded her understanding. With a gentle smile, the Veela added her thoughts as well. "Food doesn't taste as good.." Fleur offered.

"Sleep won't come easily..." Hermione added.

Fleur gave a nearly imperceptible nod back, in agreement. The two witches regarded each other, and they quickly began to offer the other more of their own observations. What ensued was the two playing a game of verbal catch, peppering the other with the examples illustrating the longing they shared for one another.

_"It iz impossible _to be interested in anyone, anyzing._.."_

"Unle_ss you are extremely busy, _every thought inevitably drifts back to the other..."

Fleur paused, closing her eyes before she said the next observation. " Wizout ze other,_ you feel your very life slipping away, from you ,_ a little bit each day_."_

**"Yes!**" Hermione agreed, passionately. "Merlin's beard, It's _such a relief_, to hear you say that!" She looked at the Veela with a shy smile. "I thought the hunt for horcruxes was making me go insane."

They looked at each other, for a long time. Gingerly, Hermione's right hand snuck forward, clasping the tiny bit of skin that wasn't bandaged on Fleur's hand. It felt electric, just that infinitesimal bit of contact. Fleur accidentally let a gasp escape.

"Ohhhh... Just to touch you again, Ma trésor..."

"Fleur..." Hermione said; closing her eyes, letting the feeling of contentment wash over her. "I ... I read about this, three years ago... This is the Veela bonding, isn't is?"

The patient felt her mouth suddenly go dry. However, she could never lie to her beloved Hermione. She looked her directly in the eyes as she responded a simple "Oui." and then she went pale.

Hermione mulled over her answer. "So that means...does that mean, I mean..." Her voice trailed off.

"Oui, ma belle. You are the rarest of things... You are my_ one true Veela_ mate."

Hermione grinned, broadly. "I knew it! I suspected, even back during the fourth year.."

Fleur looked up at her, with pride. "Zey do not dub you ze smartest witch of your generation for nuzzing, 'ermione."

"Fleur, this is incredible! One of the research papers I read said that despite its widespread perpetration into non- Veela legend, in actuality, a true Veela mating only happens every 1 in every 77 pairings!"

Fleur chuckled. "Of course you know ze statistics, my little bookworm!"

"A true Veela pair? I mean...wow! Shouldn't this is something that should be revered? Recorded somewhere? I mean... I...I guess what I'm saying is, we're so lucky, right?"

Fleur cast her eyes downward. "Yes and no."

"What? Why ...no?"

"When the Veela is separated from zeir true mate, they will die, if ze bonding has begun. I suspect you must have started it-our bonding-when you kissed me, at Shell Cottage, on ze day right before you left."

Realization dawned on Hermione. "I must have! But...I kissed you, Fleur! I can't initiate he bond, right?"

"I zink everyzing we know is out ze proverbial window, oui? You are an incredibly powerful witch. The ancient magic recognizes zis fact."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Will the same fate befall me, as well, if we were separated, Fleur?"

"I don't know...honestly. Conventional teachings 'ave said zat ze non Veela can survive a bonding zat does not go to completion."

"And how does one complete this bonding ritual?"

"Zut alors, 'ermione! You don't miz a zing, do you?"

"Brightest witch, and all that poppycock... You know the drill."

"Indeed." Fleur concurred, her contented thrall enveloping the Gryffindor.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, and grinned.

"Now quit deflecting, Fleur! I see what you're doing, there." She said, gesturing her hand in circles. "Out with it...how does one complete the bonding ritual?"

Fleur, normally so confident and self-assured, blushed demurely.

"Oh, my! This should be good... Are you actually blushing, Fleur?"

"Encroyable!" Muttered Fleur, returning the cocky grin. "Well, Mademoiselle Nosey McNosester...for you information, the climax is literally...a climax!"

"Oh!" Hermione said, now blushing herself. "Well, um, I suspected as much..."

They looked at each other, heavy wafts of thrall filling the room, nearly suffocating them both. The two mates were growing drunk off the other. Hermione felt powerless, her feet walking her over automatically to her mate. She felt her body tense, and heat; she felt the wetness beginning to pool between her legs, just looking at her chosen one.

Their eyes were both reflectively darkened as they regarded each other, and Hermione felt the stirrings in her gut . She needed to kiss this woman, to touch this woman; she needed to make love to her, with as much certainty as she needs to breathe.

It was overwhelming.

"Come to me..." Exhaled the beautiful witch, motioning Hermione closer.

"Yes." She said, hypnotically .

However, 20 gallons of freezing cold water, levitated and dumped directly on Hermione Grangers head put a damper on their little romantic interlude.

"Bloody Hell!" Hermione sputtered, shocked out of her trance.

"Bloody hell,_ indeed yourself_, Ms. Granger!" Madame Pomfrey said, sternly, as she crossed the room, opening all the windows to aerate out the room thick with thrall. "That was_ quite a show_ you two put on, there."

"Mon Dieu!" Fleur slapped her hand to her forehead, having just had a serious case of the ol' _Entrejambe-bloqué_ rendered to her, once again, by the annoying timing of the school nurse. It was loosely translated by the English as "crotch-blocking."

Wiping her hands on her coat, the matter-of-fact nurse replied, calmly. "Indeed. You know, Ms. Delacour, really…you and Ms. Granger have got to stop making things so damn interesting around here. This is a ward for healing…resting, et cetera. You two are doing anything but that!"

For her part, Hermione was all but stomping her foot, in frustration. "I can't believe you drenched me!" She huffed, attempting a glare at the nurse, halfheartedly.

Nurse Pomfrey simply ignored Hermione's acting out, and instead was spelling fans around the bed Fleur lay increasing the ventilation and air circulation a bit. She surveyed her work, satisfied.

"Okay, that's better. Carry on, ladies...just not _all the way on_, however!" With a look towards the Gryiffindor, she reminded her, "We have minor children in these wards, following the battle." She walked away, with a wink to Hermione.

"I zink zat _'as to be_ ze most interesting 'ealer I've ever met!" Fleur commented, thoughtfully.

Hermione smiled back at Fleur. Now that the thrall wasn't stifling the room, she could respond with a clear head. "Yes, she is as gifted as she is _patronizing_. And she means well. After all, I think Harry, Ron and I would all have been dead at least seven times over without her skills!"

"Mon Dieu! 'arry Potter! How could I have been remiss? Oh, 'ermione, tell me...what 'appened?"

Hermione smiled brightly. "He bagged that evil git! He did it. He ended Voldemort...the elder wand came through, Fleur!"

"Bien." She said, quietly, her lids heavy. Hermione regarded the beautiful woman, who just collapsed with relief below her, and frowned. Hermione touched her chin, gently, causing Fleur's eyes to flutter open, momentarily.

"Beautiful lady, you're obviously exhausted, and need to rest properly so your body can heal."

"Perhaps. But...I hope you come back, soon, dear 'ermione." Fleur sounded small, and far away, despite the fact she was laying right next to her. Hermione stroked the flawless skin that encased the Frenchwoman's high cheekbones, and smiled again.

"Oh, Fleur, just rest...we have all the time in the world, now."

That caused a reaction the younger witch didn't expect. Tears flowed from Fleur's eyes, and she remained silent, for a long time. Hermione grew alarmed, and gripped her hand, attempting to reassure her.

"Fleur...?"

The tears were falling harder. She looked up at the English woman. "Non, _zat is not true_, Ma trésor..." Those words inexplicably caused an unsettling feeling to wash over Hermione. The Gryffindor exhaled, forcing herself to ask the inevitable and mildly ask panicked follow up question.

"What?" Hermione whispered, clearly confused. "_Why not?_ Voldemort was defeat-"

_"Zat is not why!_" Fleur interrupted loudly, in frustration. _"Our time_, 'ermione, has limits because ..." Fleur looked at the woman she loved, helplessly, and her eyes filled with shame. She continued. "...because I am bethrothed to William Weasley! In _two months_, I will become his wife."

The realization of Fleur's words hit her harder than any unforgivable that Bellatrix could have launched at her. For the first time ever, Hermione Granger wished that the dark witch would have succeeded.

She said nothing to Fleur; rather, she just turned around, and walked out of the ward without a further word.

Her back was to Fleur, as she left. her stunned and wounded; the fragile woman was hurt far deeper than any of the scars she endured from the war she had just survived.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

_Place & Time: Five Days Post the Battle of Hogwarts, Scotland; Circa 7__th__ Year  
_

* * *

Hermione Granger looked like_ hell._

Worse, there wasn't anything anyone could do for her, it seemed. She snapped at everyone; she refused to eat; the Golden Girl was anything but sunny. I wasn't until Headmistress-elect McGonnigall threatened to force feed her, personally, that Hermione relented and finally ate. This behavior correlated, coincidently, with the sudden downturn in health of the famous patient. The Veela was the last remaining patient, in fact, in the Hogwart's infirmary.

Fleur's perplexing downward spiral in health, as well as Hermione's sullen disposition, caused them both to politely decline Molly Weasley's invitation to the Burrow. She couldn't say she was sad the Beauxbaton declined, as William would be stuck for a month in Egypt; but Hermione was practically her daughter, and her absence would indeed be missed.

Both Ron and Harry felt unbelievable guilt leaving the other 1/3 of their trio behind. In the back of their minds, despite her protests to the contrary, they knew it wasn't right, leaving her behind. However, her angry rants insistent they leave her the bloody hell alone, were pretty convincing.

She at least saw them off, the day they left.

"Come, as soon as you're able, Hermione! Promise me that?" Harry pleaded.

Her evasive eyes, accented by deep bags of purplish-yellow bearing testimony to her severe sleep deprivation, never met his.

"Sure...okay, whatever."

He boarded the Express Train, but Ron lingered behind, regarding Hermione with a curious look. She noticed, and grew annoyed.

"**What?** _What,_ Ron?" Hermione growled. "_You have that constipated look_ you get when you're trying to think...usually unsuccessfully, I might add."

He ignored her jab, instead concentrating on something important he knew he had to tell her - if only he could remember! "I...I don't know what I wanted to say. I can't remember it, oddly enough."

She rolled her eyes, and eventually huffed, preparing to stomp off. Before she could leave, she heard Ron yell, "wait!" It was successful - she stop. She turned around and arched an eyebrow.

"'Mione...it has something to do with Fleur. She loves you, but..." His face squished up. "Uh, if she doesn't marry Bill, she will die, I think..." He shook his head. "Now I'm going nutters!" As he boarded the train, he said, "go see her. It will clear it up."

"Buzz off, Ron."

Those were her parting words, to her best friend, as the train pulled out.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXXO

_Place & Time: Six Days Post the Battle of Hogwarts, Scotland; Circa 7__th__ Year  
_

* * *

Hermione Granger looked like an _even bigger_ bucket of_ hell._

_Her resolve was giving out. _She was going to have to see the French witch, her soul was being crushed without it.

She gathered her things, starting with her Gryffindor courage, and headed towards the infirmary. It took exactly 45 seconds for them to forgive each other, and another ten minutes for Fleur to relay the details of the much abbreviated of what happened.

"So...that's it? That's the hold up? You have to have a child?"

"Well, yes...I guess. A rather large problem."

"Can I have the child, as long as its yours?" Hermione inquired.

The Veela mulled over the question. "Yes, I zink so...? But it iz impossible, for two woman to have a child, togetzer!"

There was a spark in the Golden Girl's eyes, again. "Oh, Fleur! Haven't you learned yet who your dealing with?" She shook her head, at her. "I'll be back, in a little bit. Eat your lunch, okay?"

_"Where are you going?_"

"Where else?" She answered smugly. "_The library_, of course!"

And for the second time in five days, Hermione left a flabbergasted Veela behind, mouth agape.

**TBC.**


	6. Embraceable You

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N:** Thank you to the die-hard Fleurmionaniacs and I ask you good people to indulge me, for a moment; I appreciate all the views, reviews, and PM's; and don't worry. Most stuff will get explained by some point (more or less). You have to tolerate a bit of delayed gratification. However, allow me to comment on the following:

**Roselia Rose:** I think you brought up the most important question – yep, the Veela are different here, in this story, than as I portrayed them in Twin Dragon Heartstrings -in terms of being antiquated and conservative in their views, and in their reproductive abilities; they are dependent on the ol' birds and bees method of reproduction. (Which, c'mon, is insane. Smart witches that can do conventional and ancient magic? Give me a break. They would _totally _have had this crap worked out faster than you can say Watson and Crick. Please). However, it was entirely necessary for the angst of this story. Don't worry; it will get explained when we hear Apollene's back story. And… It works out in the end. Maybe not perfectly, but it always works itself out.

**Chaosrin:** Yes. I can see it in my "mind's eye" and I totally get it, too – I see a dangling cig (fag) hanging from the corner of her lip as she takes down bad guys left and right. I think badass Fleur is severely underestimated, IMHO.

**Arial Wolf, GISA103, Cuccino2002** – Preach, ladies.

Thanks also to** faewolfxvi** and** IndieFoxProductions** for the constructive comments – hopefully folks can follow my splintered brain leaps now thanks to you. Faewolfromannumberals: I usually have my characters inner thoughts in complete italics, so that's just a writing convention of mine that's not going to go away. But I do appreciate your help_. So…moving right along… Chapter 6….._(abusing italics already!)

* * *

**CHAPTER 6: Embraceable You  
**Place & Time: Scotland; Circa End of 7th Year, Hogwarts

* * *

"Are you ready_,_ Fleur?"

"Mmmmm, perhaps. I don't know...Iz anyone _really_ ready, for somezing like zis, 'ermione?"

Mulling over Fleur's statement, the Gryffindor laughed, fully. Fleur loved her laugh; it was a deep and throaty one that belied the innocent image she had. Her throat laugh was _bold_. Robust. It was incongruent with the appearance of the girl who had rocketed to fame in the last few months as tales of their feats were now finally leaking out to the general public.

No, this was not an innocent girl's laughter. Only a _woman_ could laugh, like that…

"Hello, Fleur? Hello?" Hermione was literally tapping her forehead, as the beautiful witch had gotten derailed by her thoughts, again.

"I waz_ revassent_ again, n'est-ce pas?"

"If that means your head was up above, visiting the clouds, then _yes_. You were "revassent" again, Fleur."

The older woman smiled. She just couldn't help but to feel giddy, _all over_. Her entire countenance seemed lighter; she was beaming. Fleur seemed to shine even more brightly, directed at her one true love. This flood of happiness caused her to accidentally release her _now excitable_ thrall, enveloping Hermione. The younger woman suddenly felt light headed, as the thrall assaulted her senses.

"**Whoa!** Um, Fleur, darling? Please _tame your thrall_, momentarily. _ I think we'd all_ like me to be able to concentrate my best in this moment…"

Fleur giggled. "I cannot 'elp it! You are just _so _scrumptious, Mademoiselle, zat my inner Veela wants to _eat you up_!" She offered by way of excuse.

They both giggled.

"That's great, Ms. Delacour. However, if you could please reign it in, for just ten minutes? It would allow me to concentrate properly, and it would be much appreciated! Then you can let your little Veela thrall know that it will actually be able to eat me, to it's _heart's content._"

She flushed slightly, realizing she was being overly sexual. Fleur's eyes darkened, noticeably, obviously thinking about future things that Hermione would be doing with her, involving that beautiful mouth.

And eating.

And her mouth.

And her mouth _and _eating...

Fleur's let out a heavy breath, one she didn't realize she was holding. She allowed a licentious grin to slake over her expression, her eyes raking over every square inch of Hermione's body. A visual was clearly stuck in her head, and it was causing Fleur to heat up.

The brightest witch of her era realized she had to organize quickly, as Fleur was barely hanging on.

Some of it was the muggle hormone that Hermione had been giving her, over the last 3 weeks on a weekly basis; it made her slightly more aggressive and _definitely_ hornier. Some of it was simply the baseline lascivious nature of Fleur's animal nature, and its hunger for her true mate. However, the majority of it was her secret hope that the brightest witch of her era had come through, yet again, with solution made possible by a small miracle generated from that magnificent brain of hers.

Nothing major…just the minuscule task of ensuring Hermione had determined how to alter the female reproductive cycle in order for two witches to conceive. A task yet to be done by either the wizarding or muggle world in any discipline of science and medicine; that was a mere bump in the road.

The audacity of hope, indeed!

They had complete and total privacy. Hermione had warded off her Head Girl's quarters; Fleur had snuck away from her Auror training for the weekend, and put every soundproofing charm known to the Wizarding World on the quarters.

They were ready.

"Okay…" Hermione said, with a slight shake in her voice. "So, as I best have determined...we each drink a vial that I have created. You, Fleur, drink the one labeled "F.D." and mine is…"

"H.G." Fleur interrupted.

"Yes! Um…" Hermione looked at her love, "Ta...er. Cheers!" The two looked at each other, holding the tiny flasks, as they downed them both, draining them dry.

Fleur suddenly felt very intoxicated, despite the fact there was no alcoholic content in the Flask. She started wobbling a bit. "Very imaginative, 'ermione." Fleur said, teasing. "F.D. - 'ow long did it take my brilliant lady to come up wiz zat?" She snorted. "Waz ze title, 'une' and 'deux' _already taken_?"

"Fleur!" Hermione protested, giggling as well.

"Really!" Fleur laughed, merrily. "I zink you should zink grand...big..." She was waving her arms, appearing quite inebriated. "...name it somezing like...oh...Quelque chose comme ... oh, je ne sais pas, _' projet despair éternel'?"_

Hermione looked at her, amused. _"You do realize_ you've lapsed into French, right?"

"It doesn't make me less correct, ma tresor!" She hiccupped. She moved closer to Hermione, running her fingers through her hair.

Hermione tried to wave off the feelings of attraction, momentarily. "I don't have time for some flowery nonsense, Fleur! I'm on a mission. _You_ can name it, if it bothers you so much. I am more focused on the actual content." Her nostrils flared, slightly. She got off her righteous platform, thankfully, realizing that this was Fleur; Fleur never insulted her, _ever._

Fleur just grinned at her, lovesick.

"Okay, so moving along then, now. Then, the incantation." Hermione said, more serious, this time. She incanted a spell that Fleur had never learned before; it sounded like an ancient mix of multiple languages, including Latin, and others. Pain racked Fleur's abdomen; she felt a squeezing, and a prickling feeling that – while not completely painful, certainly was _uncomfortable._

Then, the room became_ unseasonably_ warm. She laid down, struggling to not sweat or pass out.

_"Mon Dieu!_" She gasped, gripping her stomach.

It was too much for her, as the room swam before her. Fleur blacked out, once again.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOX  
**

* * *

_Place & Time: Scotland; Circa End of 7th Year, Hogwarts  
_

* * *

Her eyes fluttered awake.

Where was she? Why the hell did her body hurt like a locust storm had just swept through it?

The beautiful former Beauxbaton student looked around her unfamiliar setting. Damp...musty...she recognized that smell. She hadn't smelt it, quite like this, since her fourth year; however it remained indelibly etched in her mind's eye since that fourth year that was so fateful for her long ago.

She was at Hogwarts.

What's more, she was not alone. There was a body, barely clothed, lying next to her, cuddled deep into her, as the little spoon. Fleur's head strained, trying to recall what happened. She should have been in week T-32 at Auror training; it didn't appear that she was anywhere close to that. That thought made her panic, until the next scent wafted up through her nostrils.

Sandlewood, ink, vanilla, and paper...

Hermione.

The Veela sighed, and took a deep breath, inhaling that scent. Hermoine flipped over, as though she instantly recognized Fleur's consciousness status had changed. Fleur was not expecting her breath to catch, as it did, when looking her in the eyes.

"Welcome back, dear." She said gently.

Fleur yawned, stretching. She practically purred out, "Good morning, ma belle. 'ow did you sleep, last night?"

"_Last night_? How about the last three nights, Fleur!"

Fleur looked at Hermione in disbelief. "Three nights? _What did you do to me_, 'ermione?"

The fingers on Hermione's hand were trembling, slightly; her fingertips tracing the edges or Fleur's pale blue robe. "Well, darling, I don't know. Let's see, what I did to you..." She gently tugged at the corner of Fleur's robes, her trembling hands gently peeling the bottom corner up, away from the Veela's body.

Fleur didn't look herself; instead, she merely watched Hermione's expression.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Wow..." Her voice trailed off, shaking a bit. The same hand that had been holding her silk robe now was resting on Fleur's hip. They were laying side by side, next to each other, and she first felt Hermione's gentle touch, in a very unfamiliar way.

Fleur jolted, when Hermione's fingers landed on something new, as though she had been shocked. "Merde! What..what was that?"

"Does it hurt?" Hermione asked, apologetically.

"Non, ma belle, I would not say zat...it feels very different, very sensitive..." Her blue eyes darkened, as she looked at the younger girl. "Do it again, s'il vous plait..."

Fleur threw her head back and groaned, her nipples hardening, when she felt that magical touch again. Hermione's fingers gently stroked up, and down...

"Ohhhh..." Fleur gasped. "That's feels so encroyable...'ermione, keep doing sat!" Fleur's eyes closed, her breathing becoming choked in her throat, as Hermione obliged her request. Warmth spread throughout Fleur's body and she couldn't take it anymore. Violently, she ripped off her robes, and looked down.

"Je ne le crois pas ! You did it! 'ermione, you are incredible!" She scooped up the younger woman, pulling her into her arms, and brought their lips together, roughly.

Given the language barrier, Fleur spoke most completely to her love via physical contact. The Frenchwoman tried to communicate the passion, the love, the freedom Hermione may have provided her...and her eternal gratitude, via action. She tried to put all of that swell of emotion, into a single kiss.

And what a kiss it was.

Hermione felt her body respond immediately, to Fleur; she gripped the back of her head, tangling her fingers through Fleur's flaxen hair. Despite her pseudo-convalescent stage for the past three days, Fleur remained breathtakingly gorgeous, to Hermione. However, she was also extremely biased. Hermione was so deeply in love with the woman already, words betrayed her. The normally verbose woman was unable to communicate it back to Fleur effectively, either. Opting to express herself as Fleur did, she responded in kind, with her body.

So, they "communicated."

Never had two people wanted each other, so desperately, as Hermione and Fleur in that moment; Hermione deepened the kiss. She rolled on top of Fleur, causing the Veela to growl.

The sound seemed to jar Hermione to her senses. "Wait!" She said, abruptly.

Fleur growled again, less friendly this time, at the loss of Hermione's lips.

"Stop, Fleur!" Hermione said, her lids becoming droopy with the waves of thrall coursing through her body from Fleur. "I'm serious - I need you to do something."

"La _seule_ chose que _j'ai à faire_ est de va te faire foutre!" Fleur said, in a low and dangerous tone.

Hermione sat up, on top of Fleur, narrowing her eyes at the woman below her. "I've no idea what you said, but I'm sure its relatively cheeky, Fleur." She grinned. Hermione leaned over to her bedside table, reaching for a large silver flask. "Drink this, first, please."

Fleur sat up, slightly, on her elbows. Grimacing, she took it one handed from the Golden Girl, and recoiled at the smell.

"Mon Dieu! Vat iz zis_ 'orrible _concoction, dear one?"

Hermione smiled patiently. "Fleur, you've been out cold for a few days. I've done my best to keep your sugar levels up, and to prevent dehydration, but you _need_ to drink this. It will replenish everything you missed in the last few days. _Please._.." She urged, pushing the flask closer towards Fleur.

Fleur grimaced as the noxious brew's odors wafted towards her sensitive olfactory organs, and she smelled the foul potion. "Ew! Zat is_ disgusting!_"

Hermione, still sitting on Fleur, nodded in agreement. Hermione then leaned forward, causing her weight to shift slightly and rub against Fleur's "new addition". Fleur groaned with the titillating sensation, as Hermione leaned down, further. She opted to whisper into the aroused Veela's ear, despite their total privacy.

"Look, I can't have you passing out on me, from hypoglycemia, or dehydration, now can I, Fleur? I plan on_ riding _you, and your naked body, Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour, for a long, _long_ time, like a thoroughbred stallion; I need you to have command of all of your facilities..." Hermione rasped. "...so I would like it, very much, if you would please just_ take your medicine._"

Fleur stared at the Gryffindor, dumbstruck.

Collecting herself, she then grabbed the flask from the smirking Hermione, and downed it all in _three gulps_. Wiping the corner of her mouth, delicately, Fleur pitched the flask over her shoulder where it ricocheted off the wooden floor. She leaned back on her elbows, looking up at Hermione, and gave her a look so positively carnal, it felt illicit. A shudder went down Hermione's spine, and she swallowed, nervously.

"_C'est fait_, little girl." Fleur said with a wink. Fleur leaned back, on the bed, while making a summoning motion with one finger. Her head on the pillow, she growled a third time, and said, "_Come hither_, ma 'ermione..."

**TBC! (Wink)**


	7. Let's Fall In Love

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N:** Thank you to the die-hard Fleurmionaniacs for reading, and can anyone guess the common thread of the Chapter titles? It just seemed appropriate because, let's face it, Fleur is so damn cool.

* * *

**CHAPTER 7: Let's Fall In Love  
**Place & Time: Scotland; End of Fall Term, 4th year, Hogwarts

* * *

"What do you think they'll look like, Fleur?" The bushy haired Gryffindor said, eyes enthusiastic.

"Pardonne-moi?"

"Your _mate_, Fleur! What do you think _your mate_ will look like?"

The shocked french woman choked slightly on her pumpkin juice. "Come again?"

Hermione watched her reaction and laughed, as it wasn't often she got to startle the poised "older woman." Fleur was generally the one teasing _her_ and shocking _her._..however, the tides had indeed turned. Fleur and she had become fast friends, and never spoke of their slight impropriety that one night. Hermione just assumed Fleur was so far above her in the stratosphere, that she never gave them a serious thought.

Plus, she was straight.

So, she turned her attraction into something she could stomach: a thirst for knowledge, and obvious fascination with the unknown. Ever since the brightest witch of her age had set said "brightest mind" to researching the topic of "Veelas" , she had become a self-purported encyclopedia reference regarding the nature of the Veela. She could wrap her head around a quest for knowledge; what wasn't tenable was the more volatile nature of an actual crush, and her own heart's lack of rationality. So she compartmentalized, and turned it into something totally different.

Despite this, they became fast friends.

Hermione peppered Fleur with questions on a daily basis, which the French Veela found absolutely enervating and equally endearing, but occasionally awkward. Especially because the perpetual student found a particular topic regarding the Veela heritage so damn interesting... the topic that had engaged the brilliant Gryffindor, it would seem, was the concept of the _one true love_. It boggled Hermione's logical and rational nature, totally counterintuitive to her very being, that this kind of randomness could exist and be the driving force of a Veela's life. Such a volatile emotion as love, or passion; and it could literally end a Veela if undiscovered. She just didn't understand, and was constantly asking Fleur more about it, it seemed so random and illogical to her.

Fleur responded with frustration, most of the time, and in a guarded manner.

"Well, Fleur, what do you think you want them to be like, or look like? Have you given any thought to that?"

_Of course I have...every day, since I got to this Castle of Dreary Horrors_, Fleur thought to herself. Aloud, she merely gave a demure response.

"Non...I haven't, not really." It was only a slight lie.

"Really?" Hermione furrowed her brow. "That seems kind of...irresponsible, Fleur! I mean, if this is going to shape the entirety of your life, shouldn't you give some consideration as to what this person would look like?"

Fleur shrugged. "Perhaps, 'ermione. But...I am not really zat worried about it."

_"What?_" Hermione said, flabbergasted. Her melodramatic response made Fleur laugh, out loud, causing the serious Gryffindor to scowl. "Fleur...I...I'm stunned. As your friend, I think I should help you get organized, perhaps. This tournament is taking your eyes off the prize, I think. Maybe I can help you cross reference a list of characteristics you find attractive, so you'll have a better sense of when you meet "the one," and really...know."

Fleur grasped Hermone's hand in hers, taking a moment to stroke the surface of her hand with her thumb. It cause small jolts of electricity to run down Fleur's spine, and caused her to take a quick intake of breath.

"Zat's not necessary, 'ermione."

"Why not?" She huffed.

To herself, Fleur thought sadly, B_ecause I have already met zat person, and I'm looking right at her. And she is looking right past me. _

She allowed her cerulean blue eyes to pierce those of the younger witch, indulging in an open gaze at her heart's desire. Fleur merely gave a half of a smile in response, announcing with finality, "Because it just isn't. And zat's all I wish to discuss about zis, tonight, 'ermione. Ca suffit."

* * *

Place & Time: Scotland, Circa Graduation, Hogwarts

* * *

"Are you ready_,_ Fleur? I'm _ovulating._"

Hermione felt herself whisked up into surprisingly strong arms. "My filthy little English woman! Don't you know, your graduation is in 50 minutes?"

"I guess you better hurry, then!" Hermione giggled.

"You English pervert!" Grinned Fleur, arching her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, while gripping the younger woman firmly into her arms. "What am I to do with sis 'oriole influence on my morality sat you have become?"

"Well..I'm hoping what you'll do, is **me,** actually, within the next 50 minutes...preferably with your_ little friend,_ so that you finally get me pregnant, lady!"

Fleur shook her head, regarding the grinning woman. Looking at her more seriously, and with a darkly passionate gaze, she said in a low voice, "...I zink sat, Mademoiselle Granger, you have corrupted me so! I now cannot zink about any zing else, on most days, other zan being _inside of you..._ovulation, or not..."

Hermione shifted her weight, causing her posterior to grind down on Fleur's pelvis, causing a small moan to escape from Fleur's mouth. "Is that so terrible, Fleur?" She asked in a low whisper, as her arms wound around the older woman's neck.

Fleur grinned, and her hands snaked underneath Hermione's formal robes, stroking the soft flesh underneath. She touched her gingerly, but deliberately. The Veela in her could sense all the physiologic changes her touch was causing in the younger witch. She loved that her _mere touch_ could elicit Hermione's skin to goose bump and her nipples to harden; Fleur's sense of smell, however, was the skill that detected how aroused Hermione had become, however.

She was so aroused, and was already wet.

Fleur suppressed the grin of smug satisfaction that was threatening to escape. "Non, I suppose it iz not..." Fleur mused, in response to her question.

Leaning down, she kissed her, with all the passion her entire body and soul could give.

* * *

Place & Time: England, One Year Post- Graduation

* * *

"Mistress Fleur, there is a visitor at the front door."

Fleur raised her head, indifferently. Though still breathtaking in her objective beauty, the young Frenchwoman seemed more distant than ever. The stoic manner in which she carried herself did not endear her to those who were mortal in their appearance. She seemed more aloof than ever.

Untouchable.

With a huff, she raised herself and proceeded towards the front entryway to receive her guest.

_What idiot dares to visit me on my private time?_ Fleur scoffed.

Entering the daunting Chez Delacour was a tall young man with striking blond hair. His appearance was that of one truly blessed; he was as attractive as Fleur was, with the exception of his eyes.

His eyes, unlike Fleur's, were_ alive,_ and full of fire.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Delacour!" He said, graciously, as he took her hand in a quick upsweep of his own, kissing it. "It is a pleasure."

Fleur recoiled, pulling her hand back quickly. "Who are you, and to what do I owe this abrupt interruption?"

He chuckled. "A straightforward woman...I like that."

Fleur arched her eyebrows, in disbelief. "It is of no consequence to me what you like or do not like; what I want to know is why are you here, invading my own privacy?"

He glanced around, regarding the house elf who was scowling at him. He chuckled, offering the elf a smile. "May I suggest we head to the sitting room, Ms. Delacour? I have something of yours...indirectly."

She raised her eyebrows suspiciously, and fingered the wand she kept holstered in her robes. "Ten minutes. Zat iz all."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOOX**

Fleur's fingers ran across the cover of the leather-bound journal, and its worn and tattered pages. She could hardly believe everything this man had told her. His name was Armand Robilliard, and he was the son of Maximillian Robilliard and Olivia Robilliard, nee d'Antonia.

Fleur had gasped when Armand had revealed who his mother was; the d'Anonia's were a family of Veela descent that were equally distinguished to her mother's ancestry. It would explain his unnaturally good looks, of course, and his strong resemblance to Fleur.

They could have passed for siblings, actually.

What would cause and even more astonished response from Fleur was the reason for his visit. As it turns out, his mother had recently passed away; his father passed shortly after, likely from heartbreak. As the oldest child and custodian of their sizable estate, it was his duty to go through their personal effects. He came across the journal in a well warded off area of his mother's desk that was revealed after her passing. The journal was his mother's diary, and in it were a handful of faded letters with handwriting that Fleur knew, all to well.

The unmistakable penmanship of her mother, Apollene.

He said nothing, simply allowing Fleur to read the first few, and to draw her own conclusions.

"Merde!" Fleur gasped. "Zis..zis cannot be so! Why, sis is preposterous!" She set down the tender and extremely passionate love letters, written between her mother and Armand's mother, with a shaking hand. She closed her eyes.

He arched his eyebrows. "Why is that, Mademoiselle?"

Fleur shook her head, as she opened her eyes to regard him closely. "My Maman..she is ... incapable of the feeling expressed in zees letters, for one. She is described as 'eartless, by zee members of zee Ministry she works with..."

"Well," he said slowly, "I think she must not have always been that way. Besides, I have yet to meet a Veela that was truly heartless."

Fleur threw down the journal and the letters, rubbing her temples. "I'm sorry, this is too much to take in...and my head, it's..."

As if on cue, Fleur's house elf appeared, bearing a small vial on a silver platter. He had a concerned look on his face, as she offered the vial towards the scowling French woman. "Begging your pardon, Ms. Fleur...you're late for your potion."

She sighed, taking it in her hand. "Thank you."

Armand frowned, as he leaned over to smell the draught.

"Oh, no..." He said softly, his expression clearly concerned.

Fleur merely cocked her head, barely attending to him, as she downed the foul liquid in one gulp, scowling. He looked at her with an unreadable expression, watching her as she set the glass back on the platter. She gave him an annoyed glance, and scowled at his concern.

"What?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing, forgive me..."

"What?" She asked again.

"You and your 'Maman,' let me guess, take one of those foul-smelling concoctions a day?"

Fleur shrugged. "It is merely a vitamin supplement, to strengthen our countenance and boost our immune system. My mother iz a health nut." She didn't meet his eyes as she spoke.

After a pause, he said quietly, "Do those lies work on your wizard and muggle friends, Ms. Delacour?"

"Excuse-moi?" She asked, annoyed.

"You forget, I am part-Veela, as well. Granted, I don't express the full phenotype as I am male, but I was definitely raised in the culture. My mother took that horrible shot, as long as I could remember."

Fleur didn't speak, at first. After a long while, she said softly, "As did mine."

He shook his head. "And let me guess. You are the eldest, Fleur."

"I am."

"And like your mother and my mother, you are denying your heart's one true love. And like my mother and your mother, you are to marry a man and bear children to carry on your family line."

Fleur chuckled, bitterly. "I _did_ marry a man. But I did not continue the family line."

He cocked his head, waiting graciously.

Fleur sighed. "He is dead. He died, two months after our wedding. He volunteered for a 'horribly risky mission - he was an unspeakable for ze Ministry... and he died, day one, in country." She sighed.

He moved over to the loveseat Fleur was sitting on, and grasped her hands. She was too weary to pull her hands away. He spoke with utter sincerity when he said, "I'm sorry, really...but I must ask: what became of the one...what of your mate, Fleur?"

Fleur shook her head, refusing to let another tear fall again. She had cried until her eyes burned, enough, already; she was done shedding tears on this. She said, stoically, "She iz gone. Disappeared. Left a week after my wedding, and no one has heard from her since."

He looked disbelieving. "But we are witches and wizards, Ms. Delacour! There is no one that can't be found, if one looks, hard enough!"

Fleur shook her head, sadly. "Ah, Monsieur...that is where you are wrong. Zis was ze brightest witch of the age. If she wanted to disappear, she could...and no one would ever find her, again."

"No one can do that, Fleur." He said, gently.

She shook her head. "Oui...'ermione could."

He paused for a moment. "Hermione? As in Hermione Granger, Hermione?" He said in disbelief.

"Oui."

"The Golden Girl?"

Fleur merely nodded.

He let out a low whistle, and looked impressed. "I recant my earlier statement. If there was someone who could, it probably is the brains of the famous Golden Trio, bien sur..." He forced her into an awkward hug.

After pulling away, he said, "I am so sorry, Mademoiselle." He regarded her with sad eyes, pity lacing his gaze that fell on Fleur. "Anyway, I brought this, as a gift for you. Your mother refused to meet with me, i thought she would like to have it. But when she didn't, something told me to give it to you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe the irony of life, I guess? How the circle repeats itself..."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it, ironically enough?" Fleur eyes grew hard, now that the shock of her mothers' past dalliance had worn off. Fleur could process what that actually meant.

She knew the heartbreak, and yet, subjected her own daughter to the exact same hell. Fleur eyes darker, and her jaw set.

Someone would pay ...and pay dearly.

She smiled sweetly. "I will take sis, sank you, Armaund. Now if you'll excuse me, it is time for me to take my leave. It was a pleasure to meet you."

Armand realized he was being "dismissed." As he took his traveling cloak and prepared to go, he couldn't help feeling the nagging feeling something was going to go awry. "Fleur...take care of yourself, okay? If you need anything, well, here...this is my contact information."

"Merci et bonne nuit, Armand." She said, as she walked him rather forcefully to the doorway.

"Good bye." He replied, a puzzled look on his face.

_What had he done?_ He wondered, concerned. Somehow he couldn't help but to feel he had made a very big mistake.

**TBC.**


	8. Put Your Dreams Away (in 4 parts)

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N: WARNING: There is serious angst ahead, in this chapter! **This took me a long time to slog through, and was a necessary evil. I actually re-edited so all the bad shit into one central location, so we can all get it out of our system. I just felt like, why drag on the pain? There's just enough of that crap in the world, and this isn't a story about angst. Ergo, "all the crap" is here in chapter 7…but it will start getting better as we get past this speed bump. Promise. Also… Still waiting for some high-speed reviewer to guess the common thread o' the titles. I didn't think that it was obscure, but hey, I_ also love italics_…so what do I know?

Here** is** what I know: you've been very constructive - thank you to the devoted Fleurmaniacs who've reviewed, as well as sideline folks, too. Thanks for the reviews. _Reviews = Love._ (or so I've heard…). Good lord, Its been so long since I updated and there so much RL/RW stuff going on now...but forgive me if I don't flesh the outline entirely accurately...but its just hard to write this much regret, especially when no one here is truly the "bad guy."

* * *

**CHAPTER 7: Put Your Dreams Away, Part 1.  
**Place & Time: Scotland: 2 weeks following graduation, Hogwarts

* * *

_Hermione felt like her heart was inexplicably breaking._

She stood by Fleur, just staring, as the breathtaking woman-yes, Hermione realized, Fleur was indeed _a woman,_ whereas she was just a girl—and she fell silent as she looked at her. Hermione's logical mind thought of all the things she _should_ be doing.

She _should_ say "the" goodbye.

She_ should_ think of something witty and brilliant to say in this moment, that Fleur would always remember her by.

She _should_ thank her for all the times she stood by her, or up for her, when others made fun or bullied her.

But Hermione Jean Granger was incapable of all of that, as she stood, trembling in Fleur's dimly lit waiting area vestibule. Fleur had asked her repeatedly to come in, but Hermione staunchly refused. As she felt the air sucked out of her body and tears welling from her eyes, she realized couldn't bring herself to say any of those things while taking in the visage of the woman who had become so _all-consuming_ to her in such a short span of time. In that moment, Hermione was incapable of remembering the "Shoulds."

All she could feel, instead, were all of the "Donts."

_**Don't** leave me._

_Please Fleur,** don't** go._

_Please **don't** give up on us...**don't** lose faith in me...please. I'm begging you._

Because in the final analysis, that was the absolute worst part. The possibility that Fleur had indeed lost faith in her. The unavoidable truth that she had been unable to deliver a pregnancy for Fleur as promised. She had failed in her most critical challenge in her young adult personal life, and she would _never_ forgive herself. Worse, she had shamed herself into believing that Fleur was even less forgiving. Hermione convinced herself that was obviously the rationale for choosing Bill, over her.

_She chose Bill,_ thought Hermione solemnly. _She chose Bill Weasley...over me. I gave her my whole heart, and it wasn't enough._

Fleur, the impossibly beautiful woman, who had hair the texture of silken gossamer, had slipped through her _ordinary _fingers, and Hermione presumed, out of her life for good.

Fleur, the woman who had caused Hermione to finally wake up in her own life and _savor_ it. Fleur, the girl that everyone wanted, the girl that everyone stared at wishing she would choose them above all others, had somehow inexplicably chosen her..._Hermione. _Fleur, the most beautiful woman she had known in real life, thought _she_ was beautiful! Her! Hermione! She had never been valued for anything other than a standing bank of knowledge, and somehow, this Aphrodite on Earth chose her as a worthy "mate."

And Fleur made her feel beautiful. Desired. Wanted.

_But I guess I wasn't beautiful...enough__. Accomplished...enough. _ Hermione thought ruefully, casting her eyes downward. _After all, Fleur left me, and is marrying_ him...she acknowledged to herself, lost in thought. Hermione just couldn't get over the fact that her best effort wasn't good enough_. _Her dedicated efforts a_t _loving the Veela. Sighing, she collected herself, and pulled herself out of her pity party, and forced herself to finally look up at Fleur.

Hermione gasped.

Before her, the beautiful witch had partially transformed. While her face remained the same, Hermione's eyes raked over her hands...she forced herself to remain calm, and swallowed. Fleur's fingers were gone. Her talons had extended.

"Fleur, what...what's going on? Your fing-"

_"My talons_. Yes, I know." She interrupted, looking away. The tip of her 1st digit, the longest talon, was tapping on her vanity, where Fleur had suddenly leaned over to catch herself, from her sudden vertigo. _"It iz notzing._ I will be fine."

"Why are you shifting, Fleur? What..." Her voice trailed off, unsure of what to say or where she stood.

She watched the Beauxbaton's shoulders shrug, in front of her. Fleur spoke with an overly dismissive tone. "Likely, it iz the overwhelmingness of zis whole day. The _implications_, ze responsibilities, I guess..." Fleur sighed.

Hermione instinctively moved as though to comfort her; catching herself, she stopped. Hermione realized, thinking to herself, _That's not my job to comfort her! Her future husband has that job...not me. Never me, again._

The realization that she would never have that right, the right of comforting her former lover, saddened Hermione so tremendously, she broke. Her shoulders sagged, and her thin frame was racked with tears that had been bottled up, valiantly. However, on this day, as her bridesmaid, Hermione could not longer do it. The floodgates opened, and Hermione allowed it, finally.

The tears she had managed to hold back came rushing forth, and she was openly weeping in front of her former lover. "Bloody hell…I'm acting like the veritable definition of a prat, Fleur!" Hermione sniffed. "I can't believe I'm being such a sap!"

"Vat iz zat? What do you mean, by "sap?" Fleur cocked her head, inquisitively.

It was Hermione's turn to shrug. "Something akin to ... ah, how would I say it? _Un malheureux sot_?"

Fleur smiled, recognizing Hermione's attempt sat the language of her native tongue. She had mastered conversational French in a mere 2 months, for_ her_. There was no limit to what that brain could take in, really, in the final analysis. Even if she couldn't defy human anatomy, it still was a magnificent brain! In contrast, Fleur and Bill had known each other for a year and a half and he had yet to pronounce Gaby's name correctly, much less learn the language, even as their relationship accelerated suddenly.

Fleur regarded the younger witch, who had turned her back towards the bride-to-be.

_"'ermione_?" Fleur prodded, gently.

Hermione stood stiffly, back to the bride, and merely held her hand up to the witch, without looking at her. "I'm sorry." She said quietly. "This should be a happy day for you..._I'm going to just_...just go, find Ginny, and get out of your hair..."

Fleur effortlessly crossed the room before Hermione could even turn to leave. Since Hermione wouldn't come to her, Fleur crossed the small space bridging them, bringing them closer. She strategically placed herself between the only egress out, and Hermione. Hermione was _trapped_, essentially. Fleur moved closer to the nervous witch, and Hermione backed up. Another step...then another...then Hermone felt herself pressed against the wall, running out of space for retreat.

_Bloody Hell!_ She thought.

They could practically _feel_ one another, despite the fact they had no physical contact, at present. Fleur's nostrils were flaring, the intoxicating scent of her true mate wafting up into her nose, penetrating her mind and soul. The Veela inside her was practically screaming to be let out, to_ touch_ Hermione, to feel her; Fleur's one true mate was so tantalizing right there in front of her...for the taking.

_Her soulmate._

The Veela inside Fleur grew increasingly indignant, and unleashed _waves and waves_ of thrall, airborne. Hermione shook her head, as though to clear her mind of the Veela pheromone that was rousing every sense in her body. She refused to look at Fleur as she spoke to her.

"Fleur...I, um, " She began, tentatively. "I_ don't think_ this is such a good-" Hermione stopped abruptly as she felt that_ extra long talon_ scrape her lips, gently dragging across them to silence her speaking. Fleur leaned in, and whispered to her.

"Non.._.don't._...just, be here, wiz me..." Fleur said, her voice much lower than normal, as she whispered.

Fleur bowed her head, dipping into the curve on Hermione's long, elegant neck. Time stood still, as the two stood there, synchronizing their breathing together. Hermione felt the Veela nuzzle inwards, towards the corner of her neck; then her ear. The new Hogwart's graduate swallowed, and with superhuman resolve, she spoke.

"Fleur,_ what are you doing_?" Hermione gasped. "Do you really think this is a good idea, what with your wedding..."

The talon pressed harder against her lips to silence her. Then, that tantalizing, hot, _Fleur_ breath was whispering in her ear again. _"Shhhh_, please..." Fleur's tongue darted out, swiping the sensitive spot on Hermione's neck, to great result. She felt the younger woman shudder.

"Oh, 'ermione! Ah! Do you know how I _crave_ you?" Fleur exhaled.

Hermione paused, shuddering as she felt Fleur's warm lips press against her neck again. _"Mmm_. I...I think, yes, I do..."

"Non!_ You do not_, 'ermione Granger..." She slid closer, their bodies aligning; Hermione felt like her knees might buckle at any moment. Fleur's plump lips trailed down her neck, towards her collarbone, causing Hermione to feel paralyzed. Hermione's arousal was literally immobilizing her from leaving anywhere that wasn't in the immediate vicinity of the breathtaking French woman.

The_ same_ woman whose breathy voice was currently muttering, _"Impossible de le savoir_ ...You have_ no idea_ how much I want to touch your body..."

Hermione was losing the battle. The door seemed so far away, and in comparison, the body of the woman she loved, was warm and miraculously was pressing against her, suggestively _close_. Getting closer...promising sin. Pressing her perfect body, against the tormented young woman, in all the right places.

Hermione was wildly aroused and couldn't resist the_ feel of her,_ just one last time...

As though reading Hermione's mind, Fleur murmured. "Please," begged the Veela, "_let me feel you_...touch you..._one last time,_ mais oui?" The talons began to slowly shred the dress off her her trembling body, as she enveloped the younger witch. "**Please**, ma belle... "

Fleur's voice trailed off, as she peppered Hermione's neck with butterfly kisses, causing goosebumps to form. She grazed her hand innocently across the front of her bridesmaid's dress, and felt, with great satisfaction, her younger lover's nipples, as they hardened.

Fleur's voice, now smoky and dripping with absolute want, asked a very simple question._ "_Ma belle_...please. _Please, 'ermione._ W_ill_ you let me_?"

"I..." Hermione steadfastly began, but her voice trailed off, finally meeting Fleur's intense gaze, _dead on._

_For the first time,_ Hermione Granger had run out of all of the "right" words to say.

* * *

**CHAPTER 7: Put Your Dreams Away, Part 2.  
**Place & Time: Scotland; Circa Graduation, Hogwarts

* * *

_Fleur felt like her heart was inexplicably breaking._

"Non! Non! Impossible! I _refuse_ to believe it..."

"Fleur, darling...I'm so sorry. I tried my best! I swear I did...I don't know what happened. Hagrid said this might happen-"

The French witch cut her off, mid-sentence. She raised her eyebrows, quickly scanning the face of the witch in front of her. "You discussed this viz Hagrid?" Fleur said, incredulously.

"No, not the specifics and certainly not _your identity_, Fleur..."

Fleur's voice was neutral, that belied the fury she felt inside. "Vat did you say?" The Veela asked.

Hermione shuffled her feet, slightly. She was expecting disappointment from Fleur, perhaps, but not this anger; it set her off kilter. "Well..." Hermione began defensively, "Hagrid said that it is very difficult to create magic across species, Fleur. The magic may not have exact homology to a human as it does to a ..."

"Creature?" She spat out, harshly.

"...towards a Veela, is actually what I was _going_ to say." Hermione felt her temper raise as well, in response.

Fleur's face was no longer composed. "Don't you zink you should have told me zat...before? Zat you were not sure it would have inter-species "homology," as you like to academically neutralize this oversight, before...oh, I don't know...before _I gave my body over to you,_ 'ermione?"

"I..." She said, stuttering.

"Before I trusted you! Before I gave you my virginity, gave you my anatomy to play wiz, as you saw fit? Peut-etre?"

Hermione's eyes were downcast. "I know. I_ know_ I failed. Spectacularly! Fleur..." Hermione raised up her eyes, that had been sleepless for days, to look at the woman who held her heart. "Fleur, I just-"

The Beauxbaton interrupted again. "Worse, 'ermione," Fleur ranted, "vaz that I trusted you! I allowed myself to hope! Zat I could be free...zat I could love who I vas destined to, not some archaic binding zat chains me to zis damnable present prescribed to me!" Fleur let a sound of utter desolation escape her lips.

Fleur continued to pace. Stopping abruptly, she looked her younger lover square in the eyes as she said, "You took zat, so carelessly, from me, 'ermione...!"

Hermione looked down at the Muggle pregnancy test kit that showed one line only, and threw it on the ground. Madame Pomfrey, no questions asked, had also confirmed it as well using more traditional wizarding techniques, in case the kit was falsely negative.

"I'm sorry! No one knows more than me how much this stings! I...I don't know exactly what you speak of, when referring to these chains...but...does that mean..?" Hermione couldn't find the words to finish her sentence.

The old grandfather clock tick-ticked insolently in Fleur's rented room in Hogsmeade that the French witch had obtained for the past few months for their "rendez-vous" sessions. Where once this room was a sanctuary for Hermione, it now felt claustrophobic and incarcerating. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

Quietly, she said, "Fleur...can I remind you, this is happening to **me**, as well? I hurt, as well..."

Fleur was pacing, and stopped only to let out a scoffing noise. "Oui, it iz, I suppose. But you will not die, now will you... mon petite file?"

Hermione cocked her head, thinking that was such an odd statement. "I will someday, Fleur. I hope it is...after a life, with you."

That seemed to set Fleur off in a rage, her eyes losing their cerulean blue altogether. "Well, zat will not happen, now will it, 'ermione? Non..." She could feel the early vestiges of her transformation, and she didn't want Hermione to see her like that. She started to quickly take down the wards, to leave the room.

Hastily, she said, "I need to go get some fresh air, outside, 'ermione. I would prefer if you were...gone, when I come back." As she made her way to the door, she didn't turn to look at the young witch behind her; in part, because she could feel the anguish flowing off her body as they were bonded. However the real reason was that Fleur didn't want Hermione to see just how "inhuman" she really could become.

And the change was coming fast.

"Fleur!" Hermione moved towards the blonde.

"_Do not_ touch me!" Shrieked Fleur. "Now, go!" She raced out of the room, slamming the door, and leaving a destroyed Hermione behind.

Disapparating to a secluded part of the forbidden forest, she let the painful change take over her body, as the wings tore from her epidermis of her back. Fleur sobbed, as she completed the transformation, that had been induced by duress. Without realizing what she was doing, or where she was going, she was flying. However, the flight didn't contain the usually joyful sensations that soaring flight could provide; Fleur was too full of despair for that, now.

Back on Earth, her bonded mate felt the agony the Veela was feeling, their connection unwavering. Hermione Granger collapsed on the floor of the room, sobbing in parallel, feeling utterly alone. Fleur continued to soar, not caring where she went, ignoring the emotions of her soul mate. It didn't matter, anymore.

_For the first time, _Fleur had lost faith in the future...she lost _hope._

* * *

**CHAPTER 7: Put Your Dreams Away, Part 3  
**Place & Time: England, 1 month post graduation

* * *

_Bill felt like his heart was inexplicably breaking._

"Fleur, we need to talk. Really talk."

"Oh?" She said, indifferently.

"Yes, dear. We, er…hem…" He cleared his throat, nervously. "We have yet to make love, Fleur, as a married couple…its been a month, dear."

_It's been a month and my balls are turning blue,_ he thought to himself.

Fleur was irrationally angry, and pounding her fists. "I am being held in a death wish, against my will! I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't!"

"Damned? What are you talking about, Fleur, darling?"

She turned on him, eyes raging with disgust. "Do not call me zat! Do not call me "love," or "honey," or "darling!" I am none of zoes zings to you! Malhurisment! " She continued to rant, in French.

"What…what do you mean, Fleur?" He asked, carefully, trying to hide his shock and wounded pride.

"I mean zes terms of endearment, zey do not belong to you, William! Zey belong to someone else! Someone I cannot live without…someone I have lost…." Fleur slumped into a nearby chair, her body registering absolute defeat.

Bill kneeled next to her, talking softly. "Fleur…are you telling me that you are in love with someone else?"

Fleur rolled her eyes. "Vat gave eet away?" She answered, sarcastically. "Vaz eet ze way my saying ze terms of endearment "do not belong to you", and sat zey belong to _someone else_? "

"Yes, that was one clue." He chuckled. "Perhaps you could have mentioned that before the wedding?"

Fleur threw her hands in the air, exasperated. She walked away, her back facing her husband. Bill looked at her backside, and felt it. The loss of control. His world was spinning...

When the werewolf had bit him, that fateful day, Bill vowed never to be a victim to the loss of control. Lythancropy was not hard to beat, as long has one exercised a giant amount of restraint and control...lived with precision...then the wolf would never claim one's mind. Maybe one's body, but never the mind. All because Bill exercised a gigantic amount of control and precision in his life as a result.

He structured when he would consume his wolfsbane, down to the second; he drank all the fluids his body needed, so he was never thirsty; and he memorized the lunar calendar for the next three years.

Control.

Control...and_ regaining control._

Bill shook his head, thinking of his recent life, now.

Now?

This woman? She represented nothing but _an utter loss of control_, from the very moment he met her!

The first time Bill's wolfish gaze landed on Fleur Delacour, the former Triwizard Champion from Beauxbatons, he was immediately enraptured. Her Veela thrall connected with his animal, consuming it. Werewolves are predatory hunters, by definition; he wanted to have the blonde goddess. His member would harden just at the mere sight of her entering a room; which was ridicules as he kept it very well tended to and very "well fed." If there were a definition of a "male slut" in Webster's, Bill's picture would appear as the illustration.

However, it was due to superhuman inner strength that he forced his gaze away from her; forced himself to actually look at her eyes while speaking to her. It was all about control of yourself. Bill had been exercising this self-control and was far more practiced at it than his brethren. Hence Fleur became falsely relieved that there was a second person who would at least be interested in her. And while she could never love him the way she loved Hermione, she could at least have a conversation with him.

That all changed at the lunar full moon, however. His manhood would become impatiently aroused, at this luscious morsel that teased him, who smells were so vital, his canines elongated, as his member hardened. He wanted her, he wanted _all of her._..he wanted to sink his teeth into her as he pressed his manhood deep into her entrance between her legs, simultaneously.

Worse, she was his god damned wife, and he should be allowed whatever carnal desires he wanted of her! It's how it was, in wizarding England!

But she had to demand some antiquated notion of this epic "love," and this love of hers was** not** for _him._ It didn't matter how much wolfsbane he ate or at what time; it didn't matter that he religiously took his vitamin A, E, Folic Acid, Selenium, Zinc, and Iron...the bottom line remained undeniable. He wanted her. He lusted after her. And she denied him, turn after turn!

It ate him up.

He grew less concerned about the fact that she didn't love him; he was beginning to care less and less about that, truthfully. But the fact that she wasn't performing her marital duties in their marital bed was something he** did** care a whole_ helluvalot_ about...he was under the same constraints as she, in many ways. Although, his family wasn't a "blue blood" aristocrat like the French Delacours; nonetheless, it was still expected that he, William, as the oldest within his sibling kindred, should be expected to produce an heir, soon. To his mother, Molly, that meant _yesterday._

He felt the pressures. And the moon was rising, soon, and he felt his control begin to slip away from him.

However, this time, unlike all the others, it was too much for him. He had juggled the glass balls for far too long and he had reached the tipping point. You see, he felt Fleur's thrall, just as potently as any other male; he was just one of the few that could actually control his response to it. But she drove him wild; she drove him mad.

It was humiliating and particularly cruel that the object of every man's fantasy was lying in bed, right next to him, in a skimpy negligee, literally every night. Right there, under his nose, and ripe for the taking! Instead of wanting his virility, which he admitted to himself was the one added perk of being bitten, the damned Veela craved someone else!

A bird, no less! Barely legal, no less...

Hermione Granger, in his humble estimation, was practically aseptic. She, unlike his wife, was the veritable definition of the anti-boner! Granted, he knew her through her "awkward" phase, frizzy hair, first period, training bras, and those gawd-awful teeth...but he had a hard time envisioning her as anything but unattractive! Bollocks, she was little more than underdeveloped right munter, in his opinion! And his wife, his wife!

She couldn't seem to get her mind "unstuck" from her.

As the moon crept higher into the orbit, Bill felt particularly enraged. He had come across Fleur's sketch pad; dozens and dozens of hand sketches, of Hermione, in various stages of dress. Images of them making love.

Sketches of the rumpy-pumpy she should have been giving her husband, not this slag! And he was convinced she would...were it not for the fact she became violently ill every time he touched her, once even projectile vomiting on him when he tried to push a little too far. Her rampant thrall, however, smoothed it over; instead he was left with the feeling he should _just try a little harder,_ next time.

"Look, Fleur," He reasoned. "Hermione has been vanished for...how long now? Even my bro and Harry-fucking-Potter haven't heard from the bird! Isn't that a sign, she's gone?"

Fleur's countenance was clearly pained. After a moment, she simply stated, "Well...I choose not to believe zat."

He looked at her, sardonically. "And why is 'zat'?" He said, deliberately mocking her french accent.

"Because," she said, calmly, "If she dies.._.I die_."

He looked at her, disbelieving. "Really? And why is that, pray tell?"

Without missing a beat, she looked at him and replied, "Because she is my one true love, William. Zat is why. Where she goes, I go."

He was clearly shaken by her answer, despite the fact she had subtly told him so, even giving him an out before the wedding. However, he was a hard headed Weasley, and he believed he was the man who could "change" her.

Following her admission, he lowered himself down, exhaling, to sit at their kitchen nook. Looking out the window of shell cottage, he mused, "I wonder why, then, did you marry me, Fleur? Did you ever love me?"

"I am fond of you, William, but no. I do not love you; nor will I ever."

His head whipped around, angrily. "Then why the_ bloody hell_ did you marry me, then, Fleur?" He slammed his fist on the table, causing the salt and pepper to teeter off the edge but miraculously not breaking. Fleur gingerly picked up the forlorn shaker set, setting it upright. She met Bill's gaze with her own honest reply.

"Because I made the unbreakable vow wiz my Mamman, to uphold the Delacours."

"Then shouldn't you actually be shagging me, instead of sketching that pre-pubescent girl you're mooning about for?"

Fleur looked like a wave of nausea was going to hit her. "Disgusting... I can never allow you to touch me, william. However, you may donate your sperm. In fact, I have taken ze liberty of collecting a few sampling kits...on the day I ovulated, I will let you know...you will provize ze sperm, in ze cup, and I will implant it, at my ovulation...and I 'ope my body will not reject it."

He looked at her blankly. "Wha...what?"

Fleur said, matter of factly, "_Reject it,_ William. It iz unnatural for anything to be inside me, ozzer san my mate, 'ermione. It iz possible zat my body may abort ze fetus, spontaneously, actually."

"I meant...what about ...what the hell, Fleur? We're not even going to have a baby the normal way?" He looked to his wife, utterly shocked.

She shrugged. "What iz normal, William? We're witches and wizards! Some would say** zat** is not normal."

Without a word, he headed up stairs, and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, mulling over his life. The one good thing in his life since he had been bitten, was little more than a pipe dream! He laid there, sleep evading him, until the sun peeked out from the sky. Resolved, he rolled out of bed, and went to work early, not even giving a passing salutation to his wife sleeping in the guest bedroom.

Arriving ridiculously early at the Ministry, Bill stuck his head into his bosses' office.

"Clarence? You got a sec?"

"William! Of course, son, always a minute for you!"

"Sir, I've been thinking. I'm volunteering for the McNair mission, if that's alright with you..."

Bill's superior was shocked. He had been friends with Arthur Weasley since school, and here was his eldest, practically asking to commit suicide! Clarence Naboz was planning, in fact, of solving this death wish mission by having the junior auror/unspeakables draw straws later this afternoon...the single ones, of course. Didn't want to leave any widows or widowers behind.

"Bill...no. Just no. You have that beautiful young wife..."

"Who is training to be an auror herself."

"A curse breaker, Bill. Very different than the unspeakables..."

Bill shook his head, trying to keep the bitterness out of his mind, in case Clarence caught a clue and tried occulmancy. "yes, sir, be that as it may. Why send a young kid with his whole life in front of him? Look, because of my partial lycanthropy, we know that my endurance is better than anyone in this department."

Clarence nodded.

"I can withstand pain better, I heal faster..."

Clarence continued nodding, beginning to see his point.

"If anyone has a chance of surviving in this department, well, not to brag...but its me, sir." He looked at Clarence, watching him nod his head like a bobble head doll, and Bill caught himself thinking about what a gullible bastard he was, buying this patriotic drivel he was dishing out...hook line, and sinker. What a loser!

He continued serving it up, dishing it out like it was his job. "Sir, I've had a good life. I've survived things most people shouldn't have. And if its my time? Well, okay. I've accomplished my bucket list, sir."

Clarence looked at him proudly. "Son, you are the bravest soul I've known. And the most selfless. But I have to ask...what about that gorgeous young thing of a wife of yours?"

Bill gave him his best wolfish grin. "Sir, between you, me, and the fencepost...she's fucked me _so much_ between the wedding and now, that if I were to die today, I'd die a happy man. I might as well go...my dick's about ready to fall off, anyway!" He punctuated it with a wink.

Clarence whistled. "Do you need to talk to anyone about this-"

"No." He cut his boss off, sharply. "No, I'd rather not have Molly Weasley up in the Ministry, histrionic, about why they shouldn't incompetently send innocent children in harms way, yada yada yada."

"Hmm. Good point."

"I'm ready to go. _Right now._ Before I lose my nerve, Sir."

Clarence looked at him grimly. "Go see Merkel, in room 105. Tell him the challenge password House and Cards." He watched William gather his things, noting for the first time his pre- packed rucksack he indifferently threw over his shoulder. Clarence couldn't help but to add as he was leaving, "You're a _true patriot,_ William Weasley!"

Bill nodded. "Just doing my job, sir. And, oh...if I don't come back, tell my wife I loved her, and loved all the nights we made love together. I'll miss those, the most.."

He saluted his boss, who was giving him a letcherous grin of understanding and a wink, and the eldest Weasley turned to walk out of his supervisor's office. As the door shut, Bill felt the weight of his immediate life come off his shoulders, and he began to practically skip down the hall. Arriving at the debriefing in room 105, he grinned, dopily, as he opened the door. Bill had a secret that his employers didn't know, it would turn out.

_For the first time, _Bill had lost his will to live.

* * *

**CHAPTER 7: Put Your Dreams Away, Part 4  
**Place & Time: France, 16 months post graduation

* * *

_Apollene Delacour felt like her heart was inexplicably breaking, for the **second** time._

_"What? _That iz impossible ... you have... Olivia's journal?"

The shock was palpable. Fleur had waited for the perfect timing to share this fact with her mother; the mother she had grown so distant from as of late. To Fleur's mind, there was no better time to share this little fact with Apollene Delacour, than the exact moment she set in on Fleur to find a new husband. She had reasoned to her flabbergasted daughter that _her year was up_ in which proper society deemed and appropriate interval to mourn the loss of one's spouse .

Fleur protested, rancorously.

"Eet iz not enough...zat you ruined my life, two-fold, _ze first time_? It doesn't matter to you that you have cursed my pitiful remaining short span of life with the empty longing for my chosen one...my true mate?"

Apollene just remained silent, which seemed to aggravate her beautiful daughter even further.

With clear frustration evident in her shaking voice, Fleur spat out, "I lay awake, every night. I _look_ for her, every night...my arms reach out for a someone zey can _never_ hold again!"

The proud aristocrat who had given birth to this angry woman merely looked at her. More precisely, she looked around her. Apollene was ashamed to meet her daughter's eyes. "Mon Dieu, so melodramatic!" Apollene said, tiredly. The life, and her notorious "fighting streak" drained out of her with Fleur's revelation of the forgotten journal and the unforgotten Olivia d'Arboro, who wrote in it.

Her voice smoothly replied in a clipped, and clearly annoyed, response, speaking in their native French language. "Choisissez le français ou l'anglais, chère mère!_ C'est tout_. Notre langue Veela... n'est pas mots pour décrire vos actions." Fleur bit out. _[chose French or English; Veela does not have the words to describe the actions you've done]._

_"What I've done?" _Madam Delacour's eyes flashed red, furious. "What I have done?" She crossed the room, going nose to nose with her oldest daughter. "Let me tell you what...I have made sacrifices beyond anything your mind can dream up!"

Fleur stood her ground, unmoving. She rose to the obvious challenge. "Really? Try me! What have you sacrificed? That you would so willingly give it up tells me it was not something you must have actually valued or cherished, in ze end!"

Fleur knew it was coming, but it still stung, as the open hand of her mother slapped flush across her cheek. Fleur to her credit, stood unflinchingly, and took it.

"Vat? It iz true! " Scoffed Fleur. "Otherwise, how else could you have given up on your one_ true mate_? "

The look of horror that projected off of Apollene Delacour was priceless, to Fleur. Her bitter eldest daughter continued to bait her, ignoring the obvious agitation rising in the older woman. "Really, Mamman, to just give up?" Fleur said, deriding. "To walk away that one core thing ... the one thing that makes Veela...a Veela? I zink sat it must not have been real, zis bonding..."

She fully expected her mother to slap her again, but she was mistaken. Instead, her mother slumped to the floor, defeated. Her eyes looked haunted, as she looked up at her daughter with the hardened expression.

Fleur attempted to school her expression, as she had never seen her proper mother sit on the floor...ever. After a pregnant pause, in a voice barely above a whisper, Apollene murmured, "I didn't give up..._she_ did."

There was a pregnant pause. Fleur said nothing, rather startled at this admission.

"But I could never bring myself to hate her, as I should have; rather, I hated _myself._..I hated your father...I hated being a Veela!" She cast her eyes mournfully at her impassive daughter, and said, "And I wrongfully hated you, Fleur."

"I was guilty of nozzing, Maman!" Fleur said, the residual anger dripping off of her. "I was a _child!"_

"That is irrelevant to the emotions of a Veela, Fleur! There is only the state of being with your mate, and not being with your mate. And everything else is a barrier in the way."

Fleur pinched the bridge of her nose, as Apollene gave her final admission. "What 'ave I done? Mon Dieu!" She wrung her hands, with increased frequency. "You may go, Fleur. I release you."

_"What?"_

"I said, _I release you!"_ Panting, but still positioned collapsed on the floor, Apollene wailed. "Damn it, Fleur! Don't make me repeat myself! _If you still can_, you can find zat Granger girl! But you must promise me one zing, in return."

"Yes, that is ...?"

_"Destroy all my potions_. Do not let me have access."

"Mamman!" Fleur recoiled, knowing what that would do to her mother. Knowing that the longing, the hunger, the incomplete agony that would bubble up, from the inside out. A hunger, from being denied of your mate, that was kept at bay, barely, by twice a day potions for them both. Fleur knew that even an hour late deviation could have unpleasant consequences. Apollene was asking to commit a most painful death, and for Fleur to watch it without any help or assistance.

Apollene craved that..._the suffering._

She felt as though she_ deserved_ to suffer. How could she not? It would be the penance, for every time she allowed her husband to touch her, the touch that didn't belong to her Olivia. Penance for the two beings that grew inside her, a physical betrayal of her rare Veela bond. Penance, now, for passing on that suffering and betrayal to her eldest daughter, the one who encompassed everything that was wrong in her life. The veritable definition of why she couldn't be with Olivia...in this beautiful package that she could never truly love...

Fleur.

The look of devastation was immense on the older woman's face. Fleur did not need to belabor any points, or shame her mother further. No, her mother was doing that all by herself, in a far more cruel manner than Fleur would even do. Waves of guilt racked Apollene's body, as the magnitude of what she had done, the realization of what she put on her daughter, came crashing down. She was the mother that was supposed to protect her child. She had made some very poor choices that she would never recover from; she hoped it wasn't too late for her daughter.

"Go." She said, simply. "Go find her."

_For the first time, _Apollene Delacour felt the bitter aftertaste of regret.

**TBC!**


	9. I Only Have Eyes For You

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N:  
**Back to the Endgame. Getting more angst free chapter by chapter (Like voldemort's nasal alae, but in reverse.).

* * *

**CHAPTER 8: I Only Have Eyes For You  
**Place & Time: England proper, Circa present day.

* * *

Kingsley was looking at Fleur with a certain degree of regret. She represented one of his biggest failures, his and McGonagall's. He had hand picked her for her coveted Auror spot; he was convinced between her intelligence, Veela intuition, and battle-hardened status, that she would emerge as one of the top Aurors, ever.

She didn't even finish training.

He had offered her a position, regardless, given she was a Order of Merlin recipient. She promptly refused. He never understood the reasons, but around the time of Hermione Granger's sudden disappearance, Fleur Delacour lost her_ joie de vivre_; she lost her gumption.

She lost her will to live, really.

Now, he looked at her, before his desk, once again. He tried to contain his shock at seeing the shell of a woman he once knew. And when had she taken up smoking?

"Ahem. Smoking is not allowed in the Ministry, Fleur."

"I know." She said, as she deliberately took a long drag off the offending agent dangling from her lips.

He cleared his throat, and cast a spell disintegrating the cigarette into mid air, receiving a deep scowl from the Veela. While undoubtably still pretty, she looked hard, and completely void of ... life. Her eyes were cold, and empty. So different than when he first met her. Somehow, he knew this was tied to the disappearance of the Golden Girl.

Surely, she wasn't involved?

He cleared that thought from his head...why would the Golden Girl request Fleur's presence, if she was somehow responsible? None of it made sense, to this day. There was no reason known to the wizarding world why they hadn't been able to turn up the first clue as to the whereabouts of Hermione Granger; and it shook the entire community knowing that some questions remained unanswerable.

"I take it the Agents Potters have debriefed you?"

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Oui, they gave me some farcical explanation of why zey dragged me here, zen dangled ze fabricated threats, accusing me of ma mere's death, _oui._"

He cleared his throat. "No one is accusing you of anything, Fleur, other than the rather foul habit of smoking." He cast a wan smile, which she didn't return.

"Let's get zis over wiz, so I can refuse, and go back to my 'ome, s'il vous plait." She said, in a bored tone.

He shuffled some papers on his desk, trying to buy some time. He never considered that she wouldn't want to help Hermione. "Fleur," he reasoned, "Hermione has asked for you. Directly. Do you not want to help your...friend?"

A brief look of fire passed her expression. "Friend?" She said, coldly.

"Yes, your friend. You two appeared...very close, at one time."

She smiled, sardonically. "We _fucked,_ Monsieur Minister. A lot. We fucked each 'otzer a lot. Zat does not constitute friendship, non?" She succeeded in making him look uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. "Ordinarily, I would agree with you, but I happened to know you a little, Fleur. And I know you cared for her, deeply. Perhaps you were even _in love_ with her, oui?" He added the last bit, in a friendly mockery of her Frenglish.

She looked impassive.

He sighed. He had saved his ace in the hole, should they need it. He opened the dossier, and set it in front of the reticent former Agent-In-Training. "This is the last known picture of Ms. Granger, Fleur, taken shortly before she disappeared off the face of the earth. What do you notice?"

Fleur tried to resist, but she couldn't help casting her eyes down to the folder on his desk. There, here eyes landed on the picture of Hermione; she felt a jolt of recognition, of longing, and emptiness. She felt so much regret, and she was so angry with this man for dredging up feelings she had worked so hard at burying away.

She hissed, "I see a stupid girl."

"Look closer, Fleur, let your auror instincts kick in. Note the fullness of her face, the bags under her eyes, the ruddiness of her cheeks..."

"She has her period?" She responded, sarcastically.

"Well, not exactly. We happen to believe after much review, that..." He cast his eyes up to look directly into the Veela's eyes. The disinterested facade that she was working so hard to project, he realized with some relief, was just that...a facade. This was a person very much invested in the well being of the Golden Girl.

She held her breath, awaiting his theory.

"...well, we happen to believe that Hermione, at the time of her disappearance, was _likely pregnant_."

Fleur passed out, on the spot, hitting the floor with a thud.

* * *

**Place & Time: Scotland, 2 months post Graduation.**

* * *

Fleur ran her hands down Hermione's flank, in a slow and deliberate manner.

She had sated her desire for the former Gryffindor, indulging their mutual desires at her reception, post wedding nuptials, where she betrothed herself to someone decidedly not Hermione.

Her rightful mate, Hermione.

But the Veela within Fleur would not be denied; they had sealed; they had bonded; they were mated. And the Veela simply could not be around Hermione without fulfilling the need to be as close to her as possible. She had indulged herself, thinking if she depraved Hermione, and took her in a degrading manner, she would leave Fleur. She would have the strength to break it off, and see Fleur as the monster she herself felt she was; she didn't deserve the noble woman.

She had flipped her on her stomach, having had sex with her twice already, and ran the tip of her fingers across the tight fourchette of her anus. Hermione had so much dripping off her her, that it wasn't hard to lubricate her tight pucker; and without preamble, Fleur pushed one finger deep inside her tight opening.

"Oh my God!" She moaned. "Fleur! Please...wait..."

But Fleur was incapable of listening, at this point. She withdrew her hand, and immediately pushed her finger back in, to her knuckle. She flexed the tip, as she withdrew and pushed in, scraping some erect tissue inside of her; causing the startled witch to gasp. But Fleur was sliding in and out, easily, amidst her groans of declaring how tight she was.

She felt some undeniable urge to own every part of Hermione, something that was no longer her right to do.

With her other hand, she entered Hermione's tender opening with two fingers, in a push-and-pull motion, entering her in tandem. Hermione had lost the ability to speak, coherently.

"Fleur...that feels...ohhh! Fleur, just don't stop...I..." Then, with a shudder, she stopped speaking altogether, as Fleur pistoned into with a fury. Sweat formed on the Veela's brow, wearing nothing but a rose-colored camisole and no underwear. Fleur's nipples strained against the flimsy material, as she watched the young witch come undone with her ministrations.

"Oui, 'ermione... please! Come for me, mon plus précieux..." Fleur deteriorated into whispered words, in French. She herself shuddered, as she felt the tightening around her fingers of Hermione's inner walls. They clenched down, as she came with a savage finality that was consuming. Hermione was once again undone by the swell of emotion she felt for Fleur, and these penultimate moments that expressed that passion.

It was so much...it was_ too_ much.

Tears formed at the corners of the Golden Girl's eyes, as Fleur gently pulled out and cleaned her fingers. Hermione regarded the beautiful French woman, and she had to voice the unspoken that existed between them.

"Fleur...what of..." Her voice trailed off, wanting to say "our future," but stopping short. Instead, she settled for "what happens now?" in a most un-Gryffindor reply.

Fleur had a strained look on her face, the burden of selling them short for the vow she had been forced into weighing heavy on her shoulders. Fleur winced, and said quietly, "My dearest, I do not know. I know I can't live without you, literally and figuratively. I don't know what to do, how to ask..."

Hermione frowned. "Ask? Ask what?"

Fleur looked at her, regarding her for a moment. She knew this would not go over well, and yet she asked, anyway.

"To wait...wait for me, to fulfill my obligations, and zen..." Fleur bowed her head, unable to continue.

Hermione raised up in the bed, her Gryffindor lion roaring out, in full force. Incredulously, she looked at Fleur. "_Are you fucking_ _mental_, Fleur?"

Fleur said nothing.

Hermione continued. "You expect me to sit around, for however long it takes for you to get pregnant, by_ someone else_? To sit idly by and watch, as another person touches you? Has you intimately, has you publically and privately, in a manner in which I cannot?"

Fleur's face said it all. She flushed with shame, her Veela screaming at her internally.

Hermione rose up from the bed, gathering her clothes and collecting them with a silent fury. She dressed rapidly, despite the tears that were openly falling from Fleur's eyes.

The despondent Veela knew what this was...it was their final goodbye.

With a controlled rage that she had never seen in the younger woman before, Hermione gave her one final glance as she headed towards the door. The words that she uttered would haunt Fleur, forever.

"I am** so** disappointed in you, Fleur. There are no words."

As she put her hand on the doorknob, and turned to leave, Fleur let out an anguished cry. _"What would you 'ave me do_, 'ermione?" She uttered, sounding broken.

Hermione gave one last look over her shoulder, her disappointment in her lover clearly evident with every glance. Hermione replied, "Oh, Fleur, I don't know...I suppose I would have you love me enough to stand up to your mother? To go to her, and demand that she release you from this ridiculous promise that you know will kill you, in the end? This vow that will also ruin my life, as well?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can only conclude, Fleur, that you simply _don't love me enough_ to find that courage inside of you."

She opened the door, and began to leave, stopping only briefly to utter, "I'm going away, Fleur. Do not attempt to contact me, or find me. I'm done."

And as Fleur's tears of frustration fell, she watched the love of her life walk out of her life, for good.

Fleur broke, in that moment.

* * *

**Place & Time: England proper, Circa present day.**

* * *

Fleur sat up, dazed, and was helped to the sitting position by Kingsley.

He was her friend and mentor, in this moment, and not the Minister of Magic. He was kneeling gently at her side, and rubbing her back. He spoke softly. "Fleur...I know this is hard. If you cannot do this, I cannot ask you to do so. As it stands, you are our only hope."

"I zink zat...I can do zis, Kingsley. I must do it now, before I lose my nerve."

They exchanged a look of mutual understanding. He knew in that moment, she knew it was likely a suicide mission, as it had been for everyone preceeding her.

"Tell me, 'ow do we go about zis? Is zere a port key?"

He shook his head. "Not so much a port key, as a...well, what we call a "worm hole." It has a very narrow opening and will only reveal itself for a short period of time. Those intervals are spacing out, longer and longer, and it stays open for much less time now. We fear that soon, the wormhole will be gone, altogether."

Fleur grew alarmed. It meant that likely Hermione's strength was fading, and her ability to provide the passage was lessening.

"Allons-y, puis! Now!" She stood up, and dusted herself off.

Kingsley nodded, and apparated them to the site of the opening. Fleur looked around, noting that they were at the beach of their first date, where they had picnicked together and had their first heavy petting under the moonlight. It was the night she knew she would forever be lost to the younger witch.

She laughed, bitterly, as she looked around the area with familiarity.

"I take it this site has some past significance to you, Fleur?"

"You could say zat, oui."

And they sat there in silence, as they waited for the worm hole to open. After several hours, the air around them glimmered, and Kingsley stood up with a start. "Get ready, Fleur!" He warned.

Fleur stood up as well, preparing to dive. When the tiniest of openings surfaced, she transformed into her Veela, with the little strength she had left in her body, and pitched herself into the narrow opening.

She closed her eyes, and fought off the feeling of nausea, as she traveled at speeds unnatural to humans, but not to a Veela. She spread her wings, to break her forward motion, slightly, and then she felt the hole open up, wider. Fleur opened her eyes, the light extremely bright, and spread her wings to halt her accelerated motion just enough so that she landed with a thud on a hard surface, but didn't break any bones.

"Merde!" She uttered, as she folded her wings back into her body. She cracked her back, and neck, the transformation always slightly painful.

Her eyes adjusted to the normal light, once again, as she took in her surroundings. She grabbed her wand, instinctively, out of her leg holster. Her eyes hadn't fully accommodated when she heard the familiar voice.

"You can put that wand away, Fleur. There is no one here that will harm you."

Fleur uttered weakly. "Can it be? Iz zat you, 'ermione?"

"None other!" She chuckled, slightly. "I've been waiting for you, for a long time. Come. There's someone I want you to meet..."

Fleur said nothing, as Hermione grasped her hand, and led her gently off to a small cabin, in the clearing.

It was undeniable, how amazing just that simple touch felt. She felt her entire body heal, and she exhaled a breath she felt she might have been holding for the past three years.

"Oh, 'ermione..." murmured the French witch, with a sound of utter desperation.

"Shhh, darling. Not now. That passageway took a lot out of you. " She said, knowingly, as she took the Veela in, in one long up and down glance. "We'll talk, I promise. Just.._.later._"

Fleur felt herself being tugged away, gently, by that amazing hand in her own. They headed off toward the cabin, walking slowly, hand in hand.

**TBC!**


	10. Come Fly With Me

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews. I"m going to tell you now, this is more PG, but that ends after this. Just sayin'...and also if I didn't mention it, **Monkgirl** was the first to figure out the chapter titles. Woman of culture, that Monkgal... Hell, doesn't Fleur just seem like the cool cat that would actually listen to it? (Muggle music -issue aside.) Hit that happy review button please! (or unhappy button, whatev's - just do your thing.)

* * *

**CHAPTER 9: Come Fly With Me  
**Place & Time: Somewhere in Great Britian, Circa present day.

* * *

It felt surreal to Fleur.

On one hand, it was the most natural thing in the world, to hold Hermione's hand, in hers; on the other, she hadn't seen the woman in almost three years. Not hide nor hair.

She felt the younger witch give her hand a gentle squeeze. She said, calmly, "I'm glad to see you, Fleur."

Fleur heard her words, as though miles away from her brain. It was almost as though she was outside her body, looking in, observing the two witches walk side by side.

"You as well, 'ermione." She choked out, after a moment.

Fleur rolled her eyes, annoyed at the utter ridiculousness of their small talk. It belied the concern she was feeling, brewing under the surface. Her inner Veela , residing in Fleur, was _on edge,_ sensing the presence of another Veela on this...island, of sorts! Fleur looked around._ Was this an island?_ She pondered to herself _where in the fuckidy-fuck they could possibly be-__geographically speaking-_but gave up, after not recognizing any familiar landmarks.

It put the former combat veteran that was Fleur Delacour very much on edge.

_Hell,_ Fleur thought to herself, _Trendsetter me! _ _I am just plain "edgy" these days! _

She grinned at her bad inner sense of humor, and looked up suprised, noting Hermione smiling knowingly as well. _ As though_ reading her mind.

_Merlin's Ballsack! _ Fleur thought. The gifted witch_ probally **was** reading her mind!_

"Yes. I am, actually." Hermione admitted with a chuckle, startling the Veela out of her thoughts. "I admit... I am annoyingly curious, I guess."

Arriving at the quaint little secluded cottage, the Gryffindor pushed open the wooden door of the cottage. Pausing before the entranceway, Fleur arched a sculpted eyebrow, chosing to ignore the comment.

"Ze door...your residence...unlocked, 'ermione? Iz that wise? Not to insult you... les plus brillants de votre âge..."

Hermione chuckled again. "Well, since you're the first person that's been here in three years, I'd say the wards are pretty damn good, Fleur. Locking the door is kind of incidental, don't you think?"

"Well," Fleur mused, "You always were ze best." Fleur had a conflicted look, clearly evident.

Noting her discomfort, Hermione merely shrugged. "I guess I had my moments, I suppose; occasionally, I _ was_ the best." An ironic grin adorned her face. "But I can say with certainity I have been surpassed. Someone...much more talented than I reinforced these wards."

"More talented than you, 'ermione? Craziness! Vous êtes fou!" Fleur looked at her with an almost teasing expression. Then she said, with utter sincerity, "Zere will never be anyone zat can surpass you, Golden Girl."

"Yes, there is. I can say that with 100% certainty." She sighed. "But...how I came to know this person is a story for later." She gave Fleur's hand a squeeze, anticipating the hint of jealousy that was rising from the Veela.

Leading the Frenchwoman into the cottage, Hermione regarded her closely. "Welcome, Fleur...it's nice to have you here."

As soon as she pushed the door open, a delighted squeal came errupting from the interior. Barrelling into the entryway was a young female toddler, not older than 30 months or so, with eyes so bright it caused Fleur to gasp.

Bright eyes, that were the brightest shade of _blue._

Fleur felt the room spin, as she steaded herself. She watched, utterly transfixed, as the girl attached herself to the leg of Hermione. An enormous frown spread across her face, as she tightened her grip.

"Mommy, you waz gone much longer than five minutes!It was more like fifty hundred million minutes!" She said indignantly.

Hermione chuckled, and stroked the hair of the young girl gripping her leg. "Yes, I was, baby. It took me longer than I expected to retieve ...Fleur."

It wasn't until that moment that the young girl cast her eyes on the visitor. Looking with distain at the stranger that had caused her beloved mother to be late, she already was determined not to like her, and she regarded her with a frown.

"Who?" She said. "_Her_?" She said, incredulously, pointing at Fleur, looking as though she smelled something putrid.

Hermione pushed her finger down gently, and gripped her chin. "Beatitas! You are not allowed to be fresh, just because you are angry!" She said firmly. "How do we conduct ourselves, with guests?"

She looked down, clearly bothered by the reproach from her beloved mother. "Sorry." She muttered. Her eyes fluttered up to take in the new guest.

Hermione continued. "That's better. Allow me to introduce-"

Fleur interrupted her, by abruptly kneeling down to eye level of the young girl. Squatting at eye level, the French woman took in the younger girl with her full attention. Fleur cocked her head, recognizing a fellow Veela, immediately. That deserved respect and to be regarded as equals, on some level, hence her bending down.

She opted not to comment on their mutual heritage, instead holding out her hand, rather formally, and casting a wan smile. "It iz nice to meet you, oui? My name iz Fleur."

"_Fleur?_ What kind of name is _that_? And why do you talk funny?"

Hermione looked horrified. "Bea!"

She looked curiously at her Mother. "Well, she does, Mommy!" Bea insisted.

Hermione gave an apologetic look towards Fleur. "Fleur, I'm so sorry, she's—"

Fleur cut her off, waiving a dismissive hand at Hermione. Bemused, she said, "_No worries,_ 'Hermione. She reminds me so much of Gabrielle! My beloved sister... always insolent, but so cute while insulting you _right to your face_…" Fleur grinned, and put her full attention promptly back on the young girl.

The young girl was starting to take interest in the girl who wasn't afraid of her, like everyone else usually was with Fleur. Fleur looked at Bea. "I speak zis way because I am French, ma petite, and because English is not my first language."

Bea nodded, listening with rapt attention.

"And second, my name Fleur means "Flower" in your language."

Bea looked at her, thinking. "That makes sense. I mean, _you're pretty..._ like a flower." Bea nodded, approving. She gave her most endearing smile, then.

The older Veela cocked her head, charmed. "Well, well. You are quite enchanting, petite chou! I see you understand how to apply your heritage, already…"

Hermione cleared her throat.

The two blue eyed females looked at her, pulling their gaze away from each other having been reminded there was someone else in the room, and lifted their intense blue gaze at exactly the same time. It almost appeared rehearsed, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at their startled expressions.

With a rakish grin, Fleur smiled back at the Golden Girl, hearing her intoxicating laughter. Fleur continued to revived her long buried charm of late, and flashed an even more dazzling grin back at the precocious girl, and Fleur continued to hold court. "The _second_ part of my name, in your language, means "Of the Court."

Bea crinkled her nose. "What, like, Kings and Queens and stuff?"

"Somezing like zat. My family, the ancestors of the Delacours descended from _royal_ bloodlines, it iz true."

Bea's head shot up. "Wait – did you say _Delacour?"_

"Oui. I did, Mon Petit Chou! _Delacour _is my last name."

Bea looked flabbergasted and delighted, simultaneously. "Miss Fleur...**my** name is Delacour, as well! " She was bursting with excitement and could barely contain herself.

"Your_ middle_ name." Hermione quickly corrected, with a stern look.

"Yeah, but still! Mommy, I've never met anyone with a name of Delacour, ever! First, last, middle, nickname, et cetera! It's so cool!"

"Well, honey, you are distantly related to the French Delacours, on the non-Granger side of your family tree, actually." Hermione quickly cut in. Hermione was deliberately not looking at Fleur as she dropped this bombshell. "So you and Fleur are…related, one could say….as you both come from the Delacour family line."

Fleur's head had swiveled around to look at Hermione in utter shock. Hermione gave Fleur a nearly imperceptible nod, as she kept her gaze focused directly on her child, sensing immediately the question that the visitor must possess at this moment. Fleur's mouth opened, then closed, and then she turned her head back to the young child directly positioned in front of her, fully taking her in.

_Blue eyes._

Thick and unruly light brownish-blondish hair with _silver blonde_ highlights.

A _perfect_ profile and a confident air.

A _Veela._

Fleur finally embraced the full identity of the small girl before her, who possessed bright, intelligent eyes and the ridiculously advanced verbal skills. The nearly three year old child that was so advanced she could have been mistaken for a six year old. The stunned older woman gently cupped the young girl's cheeks, tears welling in her eyes, as their eyes interlocked on each other again.

It was _one thing_ to suspect, as she had when she entered the room and first laid eyes on Bea; but it was another thing to have it _confirmed._

Hermione, for her part, however, spoke so matter of factly she could have been dispassionately discussing the weather, or the results of the previous evening's Quiddich match, in equal breath to finally disclosing the fact that _sitting in front of Fleur was **her daughter! **_The baby Veela that Fleur_ never knew existed!_

Fortunately, Bea was not encumbered with the same awkwardness that had overwhelmed Fleur in that moment. She threw her arms around Fleur, suddenly affectionate, and began gripping her neck. She spoke with pressured speech, clearly excited about the developments. "So, I'm_ Beatitas Delacour Granger_, but people call me Bea..."

Fleur cocked her eyebrow, even more charmed that she already was previously. "_People _do?" She grinned. "Am I one of zose people, who should call you "Bea," zen?"

She shrugged. "If you like, I guess." She gave Fleur the up and down. "So.._.you're very pretty_, Miss Fleur! Wow! This is so cool! Does that mean I'm related to kinds and queens too, as well?"

Fleur, still kneeling before the precious cargo, now held the child's face with both of her hands. Tears were now falling openly from her, and she smiled. Wiping her eyes, she spoke, calmly.

"Yes, mon petite! You _most definitely_ are born of Kings and Queens; and born of some of ze most talented witches and wizards, and most importantly, you born into and are a part of ze _most powerful_ Veela clan in _all of Europe_, Cherie!"

The look that passed between the small girl and Hermione did not go unnoticed by Fleur. Fleur cocked her head, inquisitively.

"Je suis desolee, 'ermione….did she…_does she_ ….?" Fleur cleared her throat. She attempted to address the unspoken elephant in the room. With more caution, Fleur guessed at the source of the awkwardness.

Taking a wild stab at the issue, Fleur mused, "Does she **not**…um, _how to say? _She doesn't… show any magical capabilities?"

Hermione laughed darkly. "Well, Fleur, **no**. Not now, at the tender age of almost three years old, despite how precocious everyone including she herself will remind you she is! However, I am told on good authority, that she will demonstrate very…" Hermione seemed to be searching for the correct descriptive. "Hmmm. She will show very advanced magical capabilities, I am told. Beyond anyone's wildest imagination, actually."

Fleur couldn't help a proud smile escaping, as she blurted out, "C'est bon! Ma magnifique ange!" Hugging Bea passionately, Bea couldn't help but to giggle.

"Well, Miss Fleur, I haven't done anything yet!" Bea said, pragmatically through her laughter. That seemed to delight Fleur even more, and she hugged her tighter, laughing. After placing a small kiss on the side of her cheek, Fleur pulled away to regard her daughter.

"Zen, I don't understand. What were you so … conflicted about, zen?"

The beautiful little girl scrunched her expression up, looking at her new found "Delacour relation." She seemed puzzled, as she replied, "Well, Miss Fleur, I don't know what those _"Weelat" things_ are, that you talked about! Are they like wizards, or something?"

Fleur's face grew immediately serious.

The unmistakable red and gold flecks were becoming noticeable that signaled intense emotion in Fleur. Her voice was acerbic as she corrected Bea. **"Veelas,**" She said, speaking deliberately. "_Veelas, _not "Weelats"! They are the…._the species_ we originate from, you and I, ma puce."

Bea looked at her blankly. "I don't understand?"

The French witch felt a slow burn of anger growing inside, as she turned to Hermione. Her displeased expression was leveled fully at the former Gryffindor. "I take it zat she _does not know_ of... **the Veela?**"

Hermione looked back in direct challenge. "Why would she know of the Veela? I cannot speak to it, Fleur, as I personally am not one, nor have any experience being one."

Fleur stood up, shouting back, angrily. "Non, but _she is one_!" She said, pointing at the startled young girl, who was now nervously inching closer to her mother.

Hermione looked at her cooly. "It hasn't come up."

The serious lack of concern on Hermione's face infuriated Fleur! _ How could The Golden Girl be so deliberately ignorant, at such a large cost?_ Fleur thought, to herself, as she vacillated between disbelief and_ utter rage_. She cocked her hip, glaring at the Golden Girl.

The Veela's mate.

"Oh?" Fleur shot back. "Don't you zink it _will_, 'ermione? " She stood, crossing the room, facing Bea's other mother dead on. The two women were facing off, angrily staring at each other. Bea nervously looked between them, confused.

After a beat, Hermione said, lightly. "It might not! After all, she is only 1/8th Veela, so who knows?"

Fleur's fingers were lengthening into talons, and she had to take a few calming breaths to force them to retract. Once she had gained control over her imminent transformation, she said in a low voice,

**"I do**, 'ermione! ** I **_do_ know!" Fleur was clearly angry. "Ze answer is … _she will._ The Veela is strong witzin her! I sensed ze presence of one of my kind ven we vere walking, from a mile away!"

With a tight lip, Hermione looked at Fleur. She then softened her expression and reached down to hug her daughter, calming her immediately. Hermione's comforting smile to her duaghter immediately soothed her. Explaining to Bea gently, and indirectly to the angry Veela, Hermione offered a basic explaination.

"Bea, sweet girl, you see...that's why I've asked for your…" She paused. "Your _relative_," she continued, deliberately, "to come visit with us. Fleur can teach _you, _sweet girl, about Veela culture, you see."

Bea's eyes widened. "Ugh! Another class, Mommy?" She groaned, melodramatically.

Hermione's expression grew stern. "Now, Bea…" She admonished, gently.

"Yeah, yeah, Mommy! I know. I know...you say, 'With great privilege comes great responsibility'. Or, 'Knowledge is the most important treasure of all'. I know, Mom! I_ know_ what you're going to say!" Bea huffed. "But it doesn't change the fact I have to take _another_ class! How will I ever catch any flubberworms, this summer?" Bea huffed again.

"Cheeky!" Hermione said, trying to fight a grin.

Fleur stared at them both, in disbelief. "You….you brought me here…_to teach a class_ to your child? About being Veela?" Fleur's voice couldn't help the simultaneous disappointment and irritation inherent to her seeming newfound clarity, from Hermione's explaination.

Hermione's face was neutral, as she rose to stand up, still holding Bea's hand, firmly. "Well, yes, i_n part._ I would like you to begin tutoring Bea in Veela culture, Fleur...who better to teach her, than you?"

Hermione, looked up at her apoplectic former lover, and added an almost imperceptible, "…but that's not the_ only_ reason I... I needed you... here."

Bea looked up at the angry French woman, and cleared her throat. Fleur took her gaze away from Hermione, and looked at the child; the elder Veela's anger seemed to immediately dissolve as she met the disturblingly mature gaze of.._.her daughter._

Bea said, voice shaking slightly, "Miss Fleur, I am_ not_ going to let you be my teacher... if you make my Mommy mad!"

Just like that, Fleur's anger was gone. Fleur smiled, and she bent down, a playful look on her face, as she slowly began regarding the serious little girl standing between her and Hermione.

"Well, zen, mon ange, we may have a problem, Malheureusement! _You see_," Fleur gave a wink to the impassive Hermione who was watching the exchange closely. "…I have spent a great portion of my whole life ...doing just zat! Making your Muzzer very, _very_ angry ...at me! I don't know that she would know what to do wiz herself , if she _wasn't_ mad at me!"

Fleur giggled, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Bea looked confused, offering the statement, "That seems kinda stupid."

"Oui. Yes!" Fleur agreed. "it's _very_ stupid, actually."

Bea just shook her head. "Adults are so very odd." She mused. "Well, if Mommy's okay with it...I don't know. You two are really weird." She shook her head. "Anyhoo…it's my bedtime, Mommy."

Hermione startled out of her thoughts. "So it is, baby! Okay, up to the bath. I'll show Fleur to her room, you go brush your teeth and I'll meet you in the wash room."

Now Bea looked_ really_ confused. "None of my _other_ teachers stay here, at the house." She pointed out.

Hermione gave her a tired look. "That's true, Sweetie, but _none of your other teachers_ are related to you, now, are they?" She gave Bea a look, to which she shrugged. Hermione pointed up the stairs. "Scoot, child! Now!"

Bea had clearly taken to Fleur. Bea was so enraptured, in fact, that she attempted multiple failed attempts at negotiating a later bedtime with her stern Mother. Failing miserably, Bea huffed and she obligingly finally allowed herself to be directed towards bath.

With a huff, mumbling to herself in a manner very akin to Fleur's emotional outbursts, Bea finally headed upstairs to begin the dreaded bedtime. After the stomping died down and the bath water was splashing around, indicating Bea was compliant, her absence left a very awkward Hermione and Fleur standing in the living room, alone. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Are you hungry, Fleur?"

_"Non."_

"Thirsty?"

_"Non."_

"Tired?"

"A little," admitted the former Beauxbaton. The exhaustion was evident on the Veela; she hadn't been healthy for a long time, and the extensive journey had really sapped her strength. Despite her fatigue, Fleur still undeniably lit up a room. She was intoxicating, as she stood there, folded arms, lips pursed, looking stunning in her indignant posturing. She stared at Hermione, glaring in stony silence.

Hermione's eyes finally rose to meet the angry Veela's gaze, and she offered, "So…I suppose you might have some questions for me, Fleur, I'm guessing..."

Fleur huffed, aching for a cigarette. "One could say that with certainty, _oui_…."

Hermione's eyes shot up. "I'm sorry, Fleur. I mean...about the smoking. No smoking in the house, or on the grounds. And no smoking around Bea…ever."

Fleur shrugged, irritated. "Stop reading my thoughts, 'ermione! It's rude!"

Hermione unexpectedly snapped back. "I can't help it, okay? Its not like I'm _trying_ to read your stupid thoughts!" The exiled witch huffed. "_Are you telling me_ you're not doing the same?" She gave Fleur a once-over. "Right now! What am I thinking ...right now?"

Fleur looked at the haggard but still undeniably enticing_ Objet de convoitise_. "Eet iz because of ze stupid bond! You cannot help et, 'ermione, because you are in tune with my thoughts and feelings."

Hermione was dogged in her insistance. "What am I thinking, Fleur? Right now?"

Fleur closed her eyes, taking in the witch. Hermione felt the tiniest glimmer of thrall flick around the corner of her body. It felt familiar, to them both.

Fleur sighed. "You are zinking '_what would Fleur say if she knew she got me pregnant on ze day of her bloody wedding?'_ ; **Zat** is what you are zinking." Fleur sighed again, looking out the window.

After a moment, Hermione said neutrally, "Bingo!" After she let out a breath, and there was a tremendously awkward silence between them that ensued. Hermione said to the bristling creature next t her, "Fleur. Let me show you to your room, then. If you change youre mind about being hungry, the larger kitchen is down that way," Hermione motioned towards a hallway. "Follow me."

The two mutely walked up the stairs, and Hermione pushed open the door, to reveal a neatly folded down bed in a tidy guest room.

"Wow!" Bea exclaimed, poking her wet head in, just that that moment. She emerged in an adorable set of pink pajamas, having finished bathing herself. "Dobby really cleaned up this room! He must like you, Fleur!"

Fleur looked quizzically at Hermione. "Dobby?" She said, slowly.

Bea responded. "Yes, Fleur, Dobby! He's our house elf! You'll probably meet him tomorrow."

Before Fleur could ask any questions, Hermione quickly replied, "So, Fleur, my room is right next to yours. Knock, owl, or yell if you need anything!" Dismissing the topic, she looked at Bea. "Okay, princess, say goodnight to Fleur; she's tired from traveling here today, and needs to go to bed."

Bea looked almost disappointed, and gripped Fleur around her waist. "Night, uh…what should I call you? Auntie Fleur?"

After a beat, Fleur chose to turn away from Hermione's panicked expression, and answered the girl, honestly. "Well," Fleur said, clearing her throat, "I suppose I waz 'oping you would call me _'Maman_', I suppose..."

"Okay, Auntie Maman!" She scrunched up her face into an adorable look of concentration. "That's kind of weird, though, Fleur."

"I suppose it is, ma petite, _I suppose_ it is." She chuckled. Then, Fleur leaned over, and murmured to the attentive child. "So...zis is 'ow we say "goodnight" to ze little ones, where I'm from, Bea..." And she leaned over, and promptly kissed her on both of her rosy cheeks, whispering goodnight.

Bea grinned widely, feeling a familiar warmth that felt wildly comforting, which seemed to radiate outwardly from the point of the contact of the beautiful blonde stranger-nee Delacour relatives' kiss; she couldn't help but feel delight at the aforementioned familiarity of their new arrival to their secluded cottage!

"Quiescere Dormier, Maman Fleur…" She recited, in perfect Veela pronunciation, as she bounded off to bed.

Bea left a flabbergasted Veela in her wake.

"What…what did she say, Fleur?" Asked Hermione.

"Um. She said, "sleep well"…_in Veela_, Hermione! In perfect Veela pronunciation! "

Hermione gave a weak smile. "Well she is precocious, as I mentioned. She gets it from the French side of her family tree, I hear."

Fleur gave her a weak smile, still too stunned to comprehend fully what had just transpired. "Bon nuit, uh, 'emrione." She finally said, dazed, as she headed into the guest bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her without a further word to her hostess.

**XOXOXOXOXOXXO**

Hermione Granger, battlefield tested veteran, was at the moment desperately trying to locate her hidden secondary wand in the dark, by her bedside.

Her crack reflexes that still never let her sleep all that deeply, heard an unfamiliar sound and someone trying to break in. Finding her wand, relieved, she rolled it in her fingers, preparing for the attack that she was concerned would come. She heard her bedroom door quietly creak open. As she opened her mouth to incant the simultaneous hexes, a voice called out forcing her to pause, mid-spell:

"'allo? I…uh… 'ermione? _It's Fleur_."

The Golden Girl openly breathed a sigh of relief. "God, you scared me! Don't sneak up on a gal, in the dark, dear!"

Fleur turned to leave, grateful for the cover of darkness. Hermione's usage of the word "dear" caused her to flush, and her heartbeat sped up. But as Fleur waited, and no invitation came, she suggenly felt like an interloper. "Zis…zis was a bad idea. Forgive me, je suis –"

Hermione cut her off. "—desolee. Yes, Fleur, I _know_ the drill! Now, shut the door so your number one fan doesn't hear, please; then get your beautiful ass over hear to bed."

_"Wait_...what? I ...er, hem...I zink...uh, 'ermione, I didn't come 'ere for zat! _ I mean_...I don't want-"

"_Sexual relations. _ Yet." Hermione interrupted, bluntly. "No kidding, Fleur! I don't _either_!"

Fleur looked at her, stunned. "Yes...um, zat is correct." She put an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up, soulfully, at the brunette, and said, broken, "it's just zat...zat...I am-"

"-Still mad at me." Hermione finished. "Well, guess what, Fleur? I'm still mad at you, too!"

Fleur had crossed the room, and approached Hermione, who was sitting up on the edge of her bed, still holding the wand. Noticing Fleur's gaze, Hermione startled, and put the wand back on her hantch in her nightstand. "Sorry." She murrmered.

"De rien." Fleur offered.

They looked at each other, without a word. Fleur was the first to break the agonizing silence. "I...We...well." She paused. "Despite ze fact I am very angry, in zis moment, at you, 'ermione, it seems..."

"...that you cannot sleep. You can't sleep knowing your _bonded mate_ is lying there, just on the other side of the wall, and you lay there, arms empty. It makes sleep very elusive."

"I was going to say impossible, actually."

"Mmmm. My bad. I was thinking more on the elusive lines, personally."

The looked at each other, at an impass. "This is a bad idea." Grumbled Hermione, as she scooted over, to allow room for Fleur to lay down, beside her. She extended her full range of her arms and legs, stretcing.

Hermione's breath caught, still utterly in love with the goregous creature, despite the three solid years of self-denial she had imposed on her body by marrying Bill instead of her, and the resultant toll that igorance had taken on her health.

On both of them, actually.

The ravages of denial still couldn't dim the light that was Fleur Delacour. Hermione shrugged away any doubts as she looked into her eyes. Ah, _Bliss._

However, if Hermione thought looking at Fleur was utter bliss, it was_ nothing_ compared to watching her peel off her "barely there" camisole, and tug Hermiones sensible flannel PJ top off. Casting them aside, Fleur turned, and pulled the covers out, allowing herself entrance into Hermione's bed. She laid down, and turned her head to face the bruniette next to her.

"_Come_," Fleur intoned, simply, as she patted her chest, motioning for the younger witch.

Hermione took a breath, and casting all the "I told you so's" and angered words they both knew they held -aside, she snuggled into "her spot", the real estate within the Veela's grasp.

As soon as Hermione touched her, Fleur openly shuddered, the sensation of skin-on-skin sensation sending shockwaves through her entire body; and the reality of the skin-on-skin contact with her one true mate, Hermione, penetrating deep into her soul, caused the Veela in her to purr. Openly.

"I feel like I'm flying..." Hermione mumbled, incoherently.

Perhaps she was, metaphorically. The Gryffindor sighed, happily noting the familiar_ purring_ coming from deep inside a sleeping and contented Fleur, as she listed to it reverberated off the providing a very comfortable setting. The former Head Girl was content in every way possible right now, and she could do nothing other than promptly fall asleep immediately, into a blissful slumber to which Fleur Isabelle Delacour had already happily joined, a mere three minutes earlier.

TBC!


	11. I Get A Kick Out of You

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N: 1.**Time for the "Big Reveal! part 1" (For you Rosela Rose, asker o' the tough questions...you journalist, you!) Folks, thanks for the reviews, really. I love these two so much and I appreciate the kind reviews. Its hard to write this ship, much harder than I appreciated at the start. **2. **Those of you who have kids or are around kids know that 3 year olds do NOT act as developed as Bea is obvs - willing suspension of disbelief, okay? **3. **OMG, love the teaching corps...you'll see! (chuckles).

* * *

**CHAPTER 10: I Get A Kick Out of You  
**Place & Time: Somewhere in Great Britain, Circa present day.

* * *

Hermione, groggy and incoherent, roused herself from the most unexpected sensation...the sensation of feeling _well-rested._

For the previous ten years of her life, she shouldered an excessive amount of responsibility, imminent fear of death, and anxiety about her own life, such that sleep did not come easily for "the smartest witch of her era." Additionally, ever since she fell in love with a certain blonde woman, once she did sleep, her dreams were filled with all types of visions of her - some lascivious and some pedestrian.

Now, however, it mocked her. She hated initiating sleep - never was it more palpable that Fleur was not hers than in those hours before she fell asleep, alone in the dark. She hated equally the prospect of actually being asleep, and dreaming of her; it only caused her heart to ache more. As a result, sleep became even more elusive than it already was for Hermione.

But _this_ morning was entirely different.

_This_ morning, her arms reached out for the phantom, no longer an illusion. Shockingly, the phantom was next to her, allowing her to slumber! Deeply. It hadn't happened in over three years - falling asleep in Fleur's arms. Perhaps that was why Hermione felt completely drugged when she arouse, unfamiliar with this "well-rested" state. Disoriented, she quickly honed in on the combination of scents of vanilla, lavender, sandalwood, and the_ je ne sais quoi_ that comprised Fleur Delacour's distinct signature scent that wafted up to the former Head Girl's nose.

She grinned, sleepily. "_Mmhghmm urgh_." She mumbled. "Mreaoingaguaeirh la."

Fleur giggled, and squeezed her tighter, in her arms. "Oh my! 'ermione..what vas zat? I didn't quite catch zat, 'ermione."

In response, Hermione blinked a few times, then plopped her head back on Fleur's chest. Her hair even wilder than normal, eyes fully closed, she merely burrowed into Fleur's neck, deeper. She ignored the question and fantasized about going back to sleep.

Which, of course, she would have, if it weren't for the bewitching tingles that emanated from the tips of Fleur's fingers, as she traced patterns into Hermione's skin on her back. The sensation caused her to shudder, and wasn't lost on the French woman. Fleur's voice, rich in camber, so much so that it was almost sinful, whispered into her ear.

"Bonjour, darling. Ca va, Ma bichette?"

Hermione pried one eye open. "Oh, for Pete's sakes, Fleur! You're laying it on thick, even for you!" Hermione said, when she realized resistance was futile. She then tried to burrow in to Fleur's neck, cocking her leg back over Fleur's body, as she had slept the night before.

"_Excusez-moi_?" Fleur did her best to sound wounded.

Hermione huffed, realizing that a return to Sand-Land was not on the docket this morning, and pulled away from Fleur. The wild-haired brunette rubbed her eyes, grumpy. While rubbing, she said pointedly, "_C'mon_, beautiful! You are _brilliant._ You know English; you_ know_ how to Speak-ay the Eng-lay." Hermione yawned. "You just put on that French accent, thick, because you think it makes you sound ...sexy, or something."

Now it was Fleur's turn to huff. She propped up on one elbow, staring intently at the younger woman below her. Deliberately letting the sheet fall from her, to reveal her perfect breasts, she looked at Hermione with a predatory gaze.

"Oh, 'ermione..." She said, dangerously, her voice literally dripping with sexual innuendo. _"Silly_ girl! Don't you know zat... I am _French_?" She waited for Hermione's nod, in the affirmative.

She continued, melodically. "And, 'ermione, do you **not** also know zat... I am _Veela_?"

Again, Hermione nodded, confused about where this was going.

Fleur grinned, an almost malevolent grin, with the promise of sex and sin lingering in the air. "Mon chouchou, zen you realize zat ..by definition, zat makes me a... _French... **Veela**_."

She enunciated each word, deliberately.

Then, she looked at Hermione as though she would eat her whole, for dinner. "Zerefore," she continued, "zat means, by definition... " She paused for effect. "I** _am_ **sexy! _Scathingly so,_ I've heard. My dear 'ermione._.._I do not 'ave to _try_ to be sexy; mais non! I _am_ sexy. It iz my birthright!"

She gave the Golden Girl such a deliberate look that Hermione briefly forgot her own name.

However, the stubborn Gryffindor lion inside her roared. She refused to go down that easily, and shook her head to drive all the lust filled thoughts out of it. With a bit of a squeak, she uttered, "_Oh yeah_? Well..." her mind grasped at straws. "Well, you, uh...you _smoke_, Fleur! That's gross! That's not so...um, sexy."

Fleur arched an eyebrow, and lazily reached behind her for her wand. Pulling it out, she gave Hermione a wink, turned around, and quickly scanned the room. Spotting her purse, she uttered,

"_Incindio_!"

Before Hermione could process what happened, a small burst of flames erupted, nearly setting Hermione's desk on fire! Hermione hurriedly cast a dousing charm, putting out the flame. She looked at Fleur, incredulously, to which Fleur merely shrugged.

"Zere! I do not smoke, anymore. Next?"

Hermione's throat and mouth were suddenly parched, as she watched Fleur swallow. "Uh, " she mumbled. "Just like that?"

Fleur's sculpted eyebrow arched, yet again. "Mais, oui. _Just like zat._.. besides, I nevar really liked ze smoking. I just did it to 'ave somezing to do weeth my fingers and my mouth, to keep zem occupied!" She paused, regarding her nails. She then looked at Hermione, again. "But, I zink...zat might not be as imperative, anymore,_ oui?_"

Again, the deliberately sinful shit-eating grin that only the ever-so French Fleur Delacour could make somehow look classy and elegant, instead of lecherous, came out to play.

Without missing a beat, Hermione responded, "Oh? Why's that, Fleur? Taking up knitting? Or Rainbow Loom?"

The look Fleur gave Hermione was absolutely priceless. Despite their best efforts, they both lapsed into uncontrollable giggles, and eventually began gasping for air.

Hermione said with a giggle, "God, Fleur! You are just so ...so _sure_ of yourself, aren't you?" She opted to soften it a little, not using Ginny Weasley-Potter-esque phrases to describe the French witch.

Out of the blue, Fleur suddenly looked so _impossibly_ vulnerable. She cast her eyes downward. Hermione could barely hear her next admission. _"No_. No..I ...I am not. Not with ze zings sat matter most, ma puce."

Her voice was so sad, Hermione's heart ached. She looked up, at the same time Fleur did as well. As their eyes met, they both felt it.

"I...I didn't mean to touch a nerve, Fleur. I'm sorry."

The pull, the draw, the invisible magnetic force that drew them together...was now bordering on suffocating. Fleur's temples began to pound, and her need to be touching_ her mate_ became so intense. The Veela intuitively knew her mate felt the same. Hermione licked her lips, immediately drawing Fleur's eyes, like a moth to a flame. It certainly _did_ capture her attention! Fleur looked absolutely ravenous, as she stared intently at Hermione's _now moistened_ lips. Hermione swallowed, her eyes wandering around the room, only to be captured, once again, by the steely intensity of the cerulean blues that met hers. What happened next was inevitable.

The_ arousal. _Hermione felt it sliding down her torso, and surreptitiously descend the the area between her legs...overtaking her senses.

Inadvertently, Hermione let out the tiniest of moans, from the back of her throat, and it caused Fleur's Veela sensitivities to go into overdrive. Slowly, Fleur's hand crept across the divide between them in Hermione's bed. Hermione laid next to her., watching Fleur's elegant fingers moving closer. Hermione exhaled, her eyes fluttering shut. Fleur swallowed, hard, as the tips of her fingers grazed across Hermione's neck. They touched her lips; her cheek; ghosting down her neck and jawline, all the while, gazing at her, as though she were precious art. The hand drifted, until she was at the center of her breastbone, where it stopped.

Fleur cleared her throat. "_Mmmmm_... 'ermione?" She breathed, her voice gravely.

The younger woman opened her eyes, not wanting Fleur to _ask_. She just wanted Fleur to_** do.**_

"Yes?" Hermione responded, staring at Fleur's lips. _Please don't ask me, please don't ask me! Please just do...me. Please!_ Hermione thought to herself.

"I..." Fleur paused, her attention captured suddenly by something beyond Hermione's left shoulder. Fleur cleared her throat. Gracefully, she pulled the sheet over the both of them. Then, in an overly cheery voice, she called out, "_Good morning_, ma belle!" She was smiling at a point past Hermione. "Did you sleep well?"

Hermione's head swiveled around, eyes landing on Fleur's target. Catching the confused look of her curious daughter at their doorway, Hermione chuckled. Bea, brow furrowed, put her hand on her hip, and pointing to the ground.

"But..this is Mommy's room! Didn't you go to bedtime in your room, Maman Fleur?"

Fleur chuckled. "Oh, but of course I did, pretty girl! 'owever, your muzzer got to talking about ze old times, and well...you know 'ow it iz when she gets going on something! Especially..." She took a melodramatic breath. "Ven we were talking about ze _'ogwarts library_..."

"Merlin's beard!" The little girl said, with an eye roll. _"Books!_ Of course. I'm sorry, Fleur."

Hermione huffed, and Fleur chuckled, giving her a very fond and happy smile. Hermione, despite herself, couldn't help but to smile back.

Fleur's dazzling smile suddenly dropped off her face, lightning quick; instead, her face went as white as a ghost.

_"Merde!_"She proclaimed, shocked.

Into the door frame, next to Bea, walked the Granger's house elf, Dobby. He resembled the real Dobby _exactly._ When he spoke, the old Dobby's voice rang out, _exactly._

"Oh dear! Does Ms. Fleur not like the accommodations that Dobby set up for her? Is that why she had to stay with Mistress Hermione?"

Hermione interjected quickly. "Oh, no, no! Not at all! Um, Dobby? They were wonderful! You did fantastic! It's just...well, Fleur and I were just catching up, and we fell asleep, actually." She said, smoothly.

"Oh." He sounded unconvinced, until Bea petted him, and whispered, "Mommy started talking about books at Fleur, last night."

He looked relieved. "Oh, thank the Gods! Dobby was worried for a minute! Books. Okay, then. Dobby is sorry, then, for Miss Fleur."

"Not as sorry as_ Miss Fleur is_, for Miss Fleur." the Veela responded, to which she was swatted by the Mistress of the house.

Bea let out pearls of delighted laughter, and Fleur gave her a wink. Bea marched into the room, and plopped down between them, as Dobby headed downstairs, and began rattling pans. Bea flopped down, and Fleur automatically started stroking her hair and humming a Veela lullaby to her. It caused Bea to let out a dopey smile, until she realized she was being induced to sleep by the soothing of Fleur's hands.

"Don't make me sleepy, Maman Fleur! Everyone's here already, for breakfast, and I can't go back to bed!" Bea protested.

"What?" Hermione said, alarmed. "Why? What time is it, Bea?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Like, 8 am?"

Hermione sat up with a shot. "Oh my God, Fleur! We overslept!" She shot out of the bed, and darted into the bathroom in a panic. Fleur and Bea didn't move, and Fleur whispered to the nonplussed child.

"Bea..what are we late for?"

"Breakfast with my teachers, of course, silly! They're all downstairs, Maman Fleur, and they are waiting for you! They all seem to know you, already, which is so weird! Like, they asked me tons of questions about you... Everyone's here, 'cept of course, my Self-Defense teacher. She's always late."

"Should I be getting dressed, zen?"

"Probably. Shouldn't go naked, I would think." Bea said, very serious.

"Okay, zen. Want to help me pick out an outfit?"

"I'd love to!" Bea beamed, darting off the bed, heading for the guest room. Fleur smiled, the most genuine smile she had done in at least two and a half years.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

As they rushed downstairs, Hermione stopped Fleur briefly at the top of the stairs.

"Fleur, I didn't have a chance to warn you! You're going to be a little shocked." Her face looked worried, which gave the Veela pause. "Just...go with it. I'll explain later."

"C'mon!" Bea said, impatiently, tugging on Fleur's hand. "You're already late, Maman!"

Fleur could see the table coming to view, and the loud laughing and merriment around the table made her nostalgic. It seemed like they were at the Burrow a dozen years ago. Dobby and an elf that looked distinctly like Winkie were going full guns, and there was so much food on the table you would think an army was being fed. But the loud and raucous bunch, shoveling food into their mouths, might _as well_ have been an army!

Bea beamed, holding Fleur's hand tightly, looking up at her proudly. She cleared her throat. "Good morning! Has everyone met my Veela culture studies teacher, Fleur Delacour?"

The room immediately came to a halt, and you could hear a pin drop.

Fleur looked around the room, and all of the color left her face. She felt suddenly dizzy, as her eyes darted from person to person, and she was close to fainting. She almost _did_ faint, were it not for the steadying hand in the small of her back from Hermione, who whispered an apologetic "_Sorry, Fleur!_ I was going to explain, but we overslept..."

"Okay," Bea began, oblivious to their conversation, and was beaming with pride over Fleur. "So, Fleur, they say they already know you, but let me make the introductions, anyway! So, starting there," She pointed in the direction of a white haired man with a long beard and flowing robes. "...is my head teacher, Professor Dumbledore..."

Albus Dumbledore gave a gentle smile and nodded his head.

"Next to him, is my potions teacher, Severus Snape; to his left, hands in the pancakes already are my P.E. and athletics teachers, Cedrick Diggory and Fred Weasley; next to them is my magic creatures teacher, Remus Lupin; and you know well his wife, my flying instructor Miss Nymphadora..."

"Hi, Tonks." Choked out Fleur.

"Whatzup, Fleur? Lookin' good, lady!" She replied, grabbing an apple, and eating.

"Then, is my writing teacher and general muggle studies teachers, James and Lily Potter..." Fleur gave a gracious nod of acknowledgement to Harry's parents, who returned the gesture with a warm smile.

"It's lovely to meet you, finally, Fleur darling! We've heard so much about you." Lily said, graciously.

"I told you she was pretty, didn't I?" A scruffy man nudged James in the side.

"That," Bea said, "Is not actually a teacher, but he's the co-head of security." Mad-eye Moody turned around and gave Fleur a salute.

"Good morning, soldier!" He growled.

Fleur cleared her throat. "So, ah...is zis... _everyone_?" She asked, nervously, to which Dumbledore chuckled. He replied, "No, Ms. Delacour. The other security head went to go retrieve his cousin, the self-defense teacher, who was notably late.._.even for her._"

Cedrick looked at his fellow Tri-Wizard champion, explaining, "He means Sirius Black and Bella Black." His statement caused Fleur to literally choke on her own spit, causing the group to spin their heads to look at her.

"Excusez-moi...did you say.._.Bella Black_? Az in .. Bellatrix Black? Az in ... Bellatrix Lestrange?" She sounded incredulous.

Cedrick simply nodded, and stuffed a pancake in his mouth.

Fleur wheeled around, staring at Hermione angrily. "_What were you zinking_, 'ermione? Mon Dieu! Bringing zat woman here, around our-" she corrected herself, quickly. "Bringing her around _zis_ child?" She hissed.

"My sentiments exactly, Ms. Delacour!" Snape muttered, in interruption. "For once, we agree on something, outside of potions."

Fleur remained, looking furious.

"I...um, look, Fleur, um. Let me explain...please calm down!"

But the Veela would not be "calmed." She couldn't believe that Bea was being exposed to evil incarnate! By choice!

When the alarmed and angry Veela finally did calm down, it was not Hermione that finally did so; rather it was done so by the owner of a tiny hand that wrapped itself around Fleur's. The hand that was lengthening into talons, it should be mentioned, from emotional duress.

"Miss Fleur," a tiny voice said, "If _anyone_ should me mad, it should be Dobby! But...I'm not. I trust her, Ms. Fleur! She's changed. She's become...herself. Her _real_ self." Dobby looked to Fleur, with large pleading eyes. "I promise."

Fleur recalled Bellatrix's dagger that had ended his life; the same cursed dagger that had carved into the arm of her beloved. Fleur let out a ragged breath, exhaling, and leaned into the wall. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I do not know...what to say."

"Perhaps...you could say you believe in second chances, Ms. Fleur?" Dobby offered. "She adores our Bea."

_Ce n'est pas jolie?_ Thought Fleur, to herself.

"Fleur, darling..." Hermione's arms wrapped her, from behind. Fleur hated that it calmed her down, further. "It was I that brought her around here, Fleur. She came at my request. She is my guest; and I've made the right decision...you have to trust me, on this." She squeezed the Veela, for added emphasis. "After all, who better to teach her how to defend from evil?"

"Hear hear!" echoed Mad Eye.

"She's an awesome teacher, Maman!" Bea reassured her.

"Oh, really?" Fleur's eyes shot up. "And what, pray tell, iz she _teaching_ you, exactly, ma puce?"

Bea looked thoughtful. "Well, its officially called "Self-Defense," as a class..." Bea grinned. "...but _she_ calls it the _Lost Art of BadAss-ary._"

Fleur and Snape exchanged a look. "I see." Fleur said, through pursed lips. It was in that exact moment that the aforementioned witch made her entrance, via kicking in the kitchen door and letting out a hearty cackle.

"Good Morning, you Sons-O-Bitches!" She bellowed out. "Sorry I'm late! Fear not...I'm ready to get my sausages on, now!"

She grinned, winking at Severus, much to his disdain, and then having a laugh with her cousin. She plopped down next to Mad-Eye Moody, receiving a huge grin, and a slap on the back. She then grinned at her fan club, a blushing Cedrick and Fred, who gave her a wave, and then she paused. Looking up, she blurted out a question.

"_Hey_!" She asked the group, in afterthought. "Did Hermione's _sexy-blonde-French-hottie_ ever make it?" The room fell quiet, for the second time that morning. Bella's eyes scanned the room, promptly landing on a shocked Fleur Delacour.

The former Death Eater let out an evil grin. "Asses to elbows! '_Bout time_ your skinny Veela arse got here, Delacour!"

**TBC**


	12. Be Careful, It's My Heart

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione! (With some bad-ass-ary from the BFF, Bella Black. Because we like alliteration.)

**A/N: **Reviews make the world go 'round.

* * *

**CHAPTER 11: Be Careful, It's My Heart  
**Place & Time: Somewhere in Great Britain, Circa present day.

* * *

_Totalement incroyable_, thought Fleur.

If you would have told the exquisite French Veela the identity of her future BFF, after she had lost countless nights trying to heal Hermione Granger from the ravages of Bellatrix Lestrange's torture-even giving a piece of her Veela soul in the process- the Veela would have had you sent to St. Mungo's faster than you could say "Hermione Granger has a nice rack."

Yet, here she was; she would spend more nights than not _laughing_ with the very same previous presumed evil and deranged witch.

In fact, here they all were, of sorts. They were an odd bunch, no doubt, Bea's teaching cadre; but leave it to Hermione to provide the very best educators for her child, regardless of their previously "dead" status.

Without Fleur's conscious realization, one day slipped quickly into the next, and bit by bit, they _all_ snuck into her heart, healing the long-ago broken organ. At the base of the totem pole, were the boisterous breakfast-goers; the spirited and sincere discussions reminded Fleur what it felt like to have true and genuine friends, again. Or perhaps, _for the first time._ She adored Lily Potter; she "hung" with Tonks; she fended off Fred, Cedrick, and Sirus, when they weren't mooning after Bella; and she solidified friendships she never fully developed, before.

Next on the rung, surprisingly, was Bellatrix Black.

Bella, as fate would have it, was a very skilled observer of life. The bawdy, boisterous "take-no-prisioners" facade, although actually fairly accurate, belied the soft and wise person underneath; her soul, that she was just now, finally cultivating. She and Fleur learned how to open up, to the world, despite their distrusting natures..._together._ They were like a two person support group for "Suspicious-People Anonymous," and had that silent understanding. The former Black blueblood, was distrustful because she was sure people liked her _only for her name_; and the French Veela, in her case, was sure people liked her _only for her thrall. _The two odd bedfellows, so to speak, pieced each other back together, slowly. They understood one another.

In the process, they smoked like chimneys; practiced dueling; drank too much; and tried to top each other in pornographic retelling of past tales. Hermione let them have their "girl time," as she called it, only requesting that Fleur rinse her mouth with mouthwash and take an anti-hangover draught before bed when the two got carried away on their weekly Thursday night outings.

Then, next on the rung of the totem pole of Fleur's heart, of course, was_ her mate._

They never did have "the talk," in its entirety. Rather, they let the steady and wonderful monotony of daily living do the talking. Fleur had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up alone, and alone without Hermione specifically. Frankly, she never wanted to do that again! She lived for her mornings with her beautiful, brilliant witch, who appeared to have color back in her face and was finally putting some meat back on those skinny bones! It took a few weeks to work up the trust for their first kiss; and even longer, for more than that.

However, once they did...well, more often than not Sirius and Mad Eye would invent new silencing spells, as the traditional ones didn't seem to cut the mustard.

Fleur and Hermione, version 2.0, was a thing of beauty. Fleur knew when to push...and when to wait. And she was _still waiting_ for an explanation of how all these dead people kept hanging around their house! Hermione_ did_ respond to Fleur's concern that maybe they were all dead, as well. She wondered, aloud, if she died in the apparition through the worm-hole.

"Bollocks, Fleur! What on Earth are you_ talking_ about?" Hermione said, incredulously.

"Well. Um, its just zat...well, everyone iz _dead,_ you know! It's a little disturbing, eef I zink about it, too much! So zen I zink... perhaps we too are, az well?" She asked, in a weakly rhetorical manner, her French heavy due to fatigue.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Of course you're _not_ dead, Fleur! You're very much alive! In fact..." with a waggle of her eyebrows, Hermione grinned and jumped on their bed. "...come here, and let me show you just how_ alive_ you really are, sweet Veela..."

Suddenly, Ms. Delacour felt vibrantly awake!

But...hands down, the very last rung, the uppermost spot, was unquestionably taken by the singular person that had completely _stolen her heart, _in a way no one else could_. It was the same_ individual who mended it right back up. Fleur mused that she must have a bionic heart nowadays, as a result of the number the little one had done on her.

_Little precocious Bea_.

Fleur would forget, sometimes, that she was her teacher; she would just stare at her, with the most adoring look on her face. She would defend her until the cows came home, to Hermione's chagrin. She would stare at her child, love radiating off the older Veela with every glance; and she would give Bea a smile that would light the little girl's heart, from the inside out. Veela are all about family, usually; being a parent is something Fleur had always wanted.

It was impossible to miss how similarly they resembled each other; their profiles, their eyes, their highlights, their grace. The only thing she had physically inherited from Hermione, it would seem, was her hair texture, her incredible brain, and her hands. Fleur patiently explained to her mate that the Veela genetics were autosomal dominant, and would be inherited in a fully penetrant manner. It was the nature of the superior Veela genome. Hermione would always end it the same way, huffing, insisting that Bea was only 12.5% Veela; to which Fleur would always reply, "Oui. But ze 1/8th she 'az inherited, iz _choice_, 'ermione!"

Everyone began to notice that Bea was starting to speak with just the finest little hint of a... _French accent._

Once, Hermione even pointed this fact out to Bella, seemingly irritated, on one of their private morning walks, just the two of them.

"French! I'm raising a French daughter...here in Bloody England!"

Bella simply grinned, and replied, "Hell, Hermione! Have you taken a good long look at your lady? Shit! I wouldn't speak just with a French accent...hell, if Fleur Delacour wanted _me_ to...well, fuck! I'd give up English, and just start speaking French, altogether!" She grinned, nudging the Golden Girl in the side.

Hermione gave her a foul look. "Blimey! Why do I talk to you about anything? You're just as_ hormonal_ as flipping Fred and Cedrick!"

Bella stopped walking, a hurt and angry look on her face. "Oh, I get it! You want the facts of life spelled out for you, Granger? Okay, well, here it is: Fact: you were so fucking miserable without her, that you re-animated a bloody lot of dead people, including your worst enemy...me! Fact: You were going to die, within the year, if the predictions were accurate, which we both believe them to be."

Bella started walking closer, entering Hermione's personal space, pointing at her chest. Hermione began to sweat, just a little. The Dark Witch continued. "Fact: Children grow up best if they have the participation and buy in of both of the parents who brought them into the world...ideally speaking. And we both know what happens to Bea, without the love of both of her parents...don't we, Muddy? Fact: You don't know a Goddamn thing, about how to be a Veela; you know about as much about that as you do growing up in a psychotic Pureblood household! Fact: You didn't teach her, you couldn't teach her, and she suffered as a result!

Tears were running down Hermione's face, now.

Bella was now in her face, jabbing her index finger into Hermione's chest. Hermoine was sobbing, making shallow, racking breaths at this point. "So, Granger, how you like_ them_ facts? Is that enough reality for you? Here's another fact for you: The only time-ever-that I have seen you _happy_, is when that Frenchwoman is by your side! So if I were you," she gave her a dark look, "I'd stop my wretched _ complaining,_ and dig down deep, and find some gratitude, kid! _This is what you begged for_, remember?"

And just like that, Bella's face dissolved into compassion, and instead of continuing to jab Hermione, she scooped up the sobbing woman, and hugged her. Stroking her hair, she whispered, "And, Hermione? Here's one last fact: you have the chance to _get it right,_ this time. Not many of us ever have that opportunity...for a do over, outside of the dead friends of Granger club. I know you'll .. Cherish that opportunity."

She let Hermione cry, until she had no more tears left.

Hermione never complained about Bea's Fleur-esque idiosyncrasies again, after that walk. And Bella eventually did learn some French...mostly swear words, though.

**XOXOXOXOXOX**

Academically speaking, Fleur found that teaching the little genius about their Veela ways was an absolute delight. A total delight! In fact, for the first time, Fleur had pride in her heritage. The times surrounding the pro-Pureblood, anti-creature frenzy of the Second Wizarding War, that she had experienced, were not happy memories. The English were not as open minded as the French, _bien sur. _

_Well_, Fleur mused, _perhzapz zat iz not entirely accurate._ _I have alwvayz been proud of being Veela; I have not always been proud of ze thrall..._

The beautiful thing about hanging out with dead individuals for the majority of your time, however, was the previously unknown fact that _the deceased are unaffected by thrall!_ It was wonderful. Perhaps that is why she had the truest friendships of her life, here in Bea's secret forest.

She loved teaching Bea the ways of their kind. It was remarkable to her, really, how fast Bea picked it up. She was like a sponge! She was practically fluent in Veela, at a conversational 1st grade level, after a mere three months. Fleur had never seen anything like it, and just assumed that Bea was that way with everyone. Until the "mid-semester" review, with Head Teacher Dumbledore. The things she liked, she excelled in; the things she didn't...potitions, muggle etiquette, and some divinations...she was abysmal.

Fleur had been a natural at Potions in school, and it pained her to see that Bea cared little for it. She tried bargaining; she tried reasoning; Snape wasn't nearly as hard on her as Bella was; it perplexed Fleur. Additionally, she couldn't think of three "teachers" she respected more-Severus, Lily Potter, and Albus Dumbledore. It pained her that her daughter was so indifferent. Nothing worked with Bea, either positive reinforcement or negative; Bella offered to fire off a Crucio, which everyone at the table quickly vetoed.

Albus sighed. "Well, we are in a conundrum, I'm afraid. Somehow, we just have to ...find her currency, I suppose. Let's just keep trying."

The keen eyes of Albus Dumbledore did not fail to note a fire in a certain teacher's eyes. His simple phrase had sparked a very important thought in Fleur.

_Find her currency!_ Fleur mulled over, silently._ Of course!_

"Excuze me..." Fleur said, exiting in a hurry. The normally graceful witch knocked over a glass of pumpkin juice in her haste to exit, but quickly cleaned it up with a wandless cleaning spell, slamming the door behind her.

"What's up with Phlegem?" Fred asked, curiously, only to meet the wise smile of Dumbledore.

"That, my young friend, I believe...is the sound of currency being found! Oh, and Fred...would you happen to have anymore of those exploding chocolate frogs, with you, this fine morning?"

**XOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Fleur beelined out, found her daughter exactly where she thought she would be: at the pond, digging up flubber worms.

Yes, Bea was frighteningly smart; yes, she had the verbal talents of a child at least 5 years older; but at the end of the day, she was still kind of a toddler, and she frustrated easily. She was dirty and sweaty and ready to cry.

Fleur merely sat at the edge of the bank, watching her, amused.

"Aren't you going to help me?"

"Non, ma puce."

Bea huffed. "Why not?" She whined, practically crying.

Fleur shrugged. "Because I do not agree wiz ze way you are doing sat. It iz scaring ze worms. It is very traumatic to be dug up, uprooted...like zat."

"But this is the way the book said to do it!" She hollered, stomping her feet.

Fleur stood in a flash. "Non! You do not point your finger, and have a fit at your muzze-er, I mean, your Moth-loving teacher, now!" Fleur hissed, correcting herself. "Now, if you ask me politely, I can show you how a Veela would do zis...or, you can go home, and take a nap."

Bea's eyes got wide, as nothing was more frightening to her than...a nap. She climbed up into Fleur's lap, and put her arms around her neck.

"Please, Maman...show me how to get the flubber worms!"

Fleur smiled to herself. "Mais, oui, my little worm farmer!" She remained on Fleur's lap, while Fleur stared at their burrows in the ground.

"What are you doing, Maman?" Whispered Bea, loudly. "Are you trying to _Accio_ them? I already tried..."

Fleur broke out into a hearty laugh. "Non! But zat is a good idea, little one! Zat does not work well, on living creatures, by ze way." Fleur laughed again, wrapping her arms around her little one. "Non...I am trying to remember sere favorite song, if you must know!"

_"What?"_

Then, Fleur began to sing. Beautiful, melodious singing of the ancient sirens. If a voice could be described as nirvana, that is what the Veela voice sounds like, and little Bea was amazed. More amazing, was when Fleur crooked her neck, to the side, pointing out the 50- 70 or so Flubber worms undulating down the path towards Fleur's melodious offering. They all gathered around her feet, as she continued to sing to them. It was like a concert with a coliseum of flubber worms...and Bea's eyes were wide and her mouth hung open, gazing down at them.

"Oh my!" She uttered. "Sing, Maman!" She managed to get out, in between starring.

"Fermer votre bouche, child!" Fleur said, laughing, as she closed the slack jaw, gently. When Bea made no move to pick them up, Fleur prodded her, gently. "Are you going to collect a few?"

Bea shook her head, emphatically, no.

Fleur looked shocked. "What? I sought zat was ze sole mission, of your entire year!"

"Look at them, Fleur!" She gestured downwards, pointing at the dozens of worms gathered at the Veela's feet. "They love your singing! Just like I love your singing! I..I can't capture them...they're like little people!"

Fleur gently kissed Bea's temple. "Bon. I am very proud of you, my darling girl."

And they sat like that for the rest of the afternoon.

**XOXOXOXOXOXXOOX**

"Wow. Being a Veela is...so bloody cool! Isn't it, Maman?"

Fleur mused at that, holding the little girl's hand, as they walked back to the cottage. "Mmm. Some days, yes. Some days, no..."

"What's it like, to transform, Maman? Does it hurt?"

Fleur stopped walking, kneeling down to eye level with her daughter. She whispered, in a most conspiratorial manner. "Well, it iz 'ard to describe. It's a little like losing all your baby teeth, all at ze same time, but the relief when you're done! Bliss!" She looked at Bea, meaningfully. "I'm going to offer you a chance ...zat I myself, did not get until my 6th year of high school."

Bea's eyes grew wide.

"I am going to offer you some zing in exchange for you putting int your best efforts to Potions, Divinations, and Muggle Studies..."

"Arrgh!" She groaned, helplessly. "I hate Divination!"

Fleur smiled, amused. "_You give your best effort_, ma chere, and be a model student...as witnessed by ze teacher...if you do, and you turn eet around, I make you zis promise: at ze end of ze year, I will teach you how to transform into your Veela form! Very advanced magic, naturallement!"

"Woah! How old were you, Maman, when you transformed _for the first time?"_

_"I vas thirteen._"

"Wicked! I'll only be four years old...!" The wheels were turning. "Okay, Maman,...you have a deal!"

**TBC**

_P.S. Did you hear that? Someone behind you just yelled, "reviews are love!" I swear, I thought that's what they said. Just saying'...really! Just ask GISA 103, silentragnarok, RoseliaRose, Thel Rome, Icy-Windbreeze, Lia Coelho, Azentra, Cuccino2002, Timesnewamerican, or Monkgirl! They heard the guy yelling, __apparently. ;) thank you, as always._


	13. A Fine Romance

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N: **Its Time for the "Big Reveal!" (For you Rosela Rose, a the chief primary inquiring mind-although generally I prefer to be called "Ms. Whore", thank you very much!) Thanks for the reviews. I thought about dragging it out more, but honestly RL is calling. I love these two so much and I appreciate the kind reviews. Its hard to write them, much harder than I appreciated at the start. Those of you who have kids or are around kids know that Bea is not obviously a typically developing 3 year old - willing suspension of disbelief, okay? It's wizarding magic!

* * *

**CHAPTER 12: A Fine Romance  
**Place & Time: Somewhere in Great Britain, Circa present day.

* * *

"Fleur, would you be interested in getting Bea, and playing hooky? Take a picnic, just the three of us?"

Fleur looked mock-scandalized. "What? Ze brightest witch of ze era, proposing we... _skip classes_? Quelle horror! Iz zis ze end of ze world?"

"Oh, stop, You! No, I just thought..."

"It iz ze end of days, I knew it!" Fleur lamented.

"Hush, Veela!" Hermione poked her. "Look...well, its just ...she's had such an amazing turn around, and she's excelling in all her classes now...and she's working so hard! I thought it would be nice for a little break and do something, just the three of us, as a reward. For everyone."

Fleur looked at Hermione like she was the only person in the world, and smiled. Pulling the shorter girl in close, she whispered, "Now, vat do you zink? Of course..." Fleur dropped her head in, to nip at Hermione's neck. "..._I love_..." More kisses. "_Zis idea_, of yours, ma belle." A small lick.

Hermione shuddered. "Well,I suppose we don't have to pick her up, right this second, at this _exact_ moment..." she giggled. "Nothing wrong with a late lunch."

Fleur pulled their bodies in, tight, gripping Hermione to her. She could feel the gentle swell of her breasts, and ghosted her lips across the Golden Girl's.

"_What you do to me_, little girl...!" Lamented the former Beauxbaton.

Fleur pressed her lips to Hermione's; she poured the need, the desire, and all of her carnal lust into it. However, her other actions-such as the gentle stroking of her hands on Hermione's back and arms, careful to avoid her cursed scar on her left arm; the purring from within as the Veela delighted in the proximity of its mate - told a story of more than lust.

The simple gestures told a story of _love. _

In the distance, well obscured by the camouflaging edge of the forest line, a pair of eyes, staring in disbelief, took in the unspoken gestures of love that passed between the two witches. The reddish eyes at first widened in disbelief; then they narrowed, with a fury that was palpable.

Fleur and Hermione were oblivious to their unwanted audience, as they were so caught up in the feel of each other, and the freedom to exercise their passion and thirst for the other. Fleur's lips were everywhere all at once, she couldn't _touch_ enough..._feel_ enough..._get close_ enough, to sate the hungry Veela inside her.

"You taste so...magnificent, 'ermione! I need you...need to _touch you._..!"

Hermione's arms went round the blonde's neck, and the Englishwoman's gutteral moan only spurred on the Veela's desire, exponentially. Fleur's hands were uncharacteristically clumsy in her rush to undress the younger woman, untying the robes of her mate; her desire had taken the edges off Fleur's signature grace and poise. The Veela within her was thrumming with desire, and its need was pounding against her temples, angrily. Fleur groped the woman, wrenching her robes open, finally, and she pressed her core against Hermione's; she had to get to her. Feel her. _Have_ her.

"_Ohhh_, God, Fleur..." Hermione gasped, panting slightly, as Fleur ground their points of contact against each other.

She pressed her lips against Fleur's welcoming mouth, which was ravenous, and cocked one leg around the backside of the Veela, who hissed and leaned into her, pressing her back against a tree. Their hands continued their desperate dance, frenzied once again.

They did not hear the near hiss of pain uttered from not too far from where they stood, so consumed were they by each other. "No!" The intruder murmured. "This...**aberration**...! This_ perversion_ of the natural order of things! How did this...?" Without conscious realization, the onlooker crushed the rocks it had been holding, in its metallic looking hands. The granite rocks were now little more than pieces of dust as they fell to the ground.

The intruder looked on, horrified, as the Veela's hand dipped below the waist of Hermione's robes, and continued watching, their anger intensifying. Hermione, the brilliant witch, was reduced to little more than a brainstem, so driven by the most base of desires, at present. She had come undone by Fleur's skilled ministrations.

_She stands there...her body partially exposed, pressed up against a tree, like a wanton slut!_ Thought the owner of the red eyes, noting her state of dress and arousal, both.

The stranger then scowled, realizing the blonde had ripped open her robes, to make her body accessible to the blonde, who was treating that body in the most gluttonous of manners. Fleur was sucking on her neck, her kisses _wet and sloppy_ while the hand continued to piston in and out, causing the shorter woman to writhe and shudder. The red eyes grew darker, as they took in the French woman yanking down the brunette's robes, such that Hermione was_ completely exposed_ from the waist down, naked.

"I must_ taste_ you, ma belle..." The Veela growled, dropping to her knees, placing her free hand that was not** in** Hermione, on the young woman's hips, to keep her steady, as she pressed her face into the Hermone, breathing deeply, worshipping... before Hermione.

The red eyed onlooker growled. "Oh, Hermione, you stupid girl! This ...must... _end_. "

The creature hissed, transfixed, watching the Veela, as she placed her mouth between Hermione's legs. Fleur propped her lover's right leg over her shoulder to gain access to the area, and affixing herself to Hermione's mound! The Veela's arm was pistoning in and out of Hermione's opening still, and it did not slow down, rather it sped up, and Fleur's head bobbed and sucked in time with the motion, massaging Hermione's swollen clitoris to a hardened nub.

"This creature debasing you must end...and, unfortunately,_ so must you_..." It hissed. Even the happiest of souls would feel sadness and fear, from the intensity of feeling emanating off the glare of the fuming spectator. Sadness and fear for the imminent future of the star-crossed lovers, who at present, were finally..._for the first time_...actually happy.

Despite the relatively safe distance it was away from the two witches, even from the distance, the intruder could hear the sloshing noises, as Fleur's fingers entered Hermione, playing her concerto; Hermione's wetness palpable. As the beautiful blonde pulled them out from what was clearly a very aroused opening; it _disgusted_ the onlooker, who hissed.

Clearly it did not have the same effect on the Veela, who pulled the fingers out, and sucked them once, before putting them back in, and the two witches both moaned in that instant. They were both so aroused...and needed to finish. Fleur licked her lips, then put her mouth back on Hermione's nub, with occasional mutterings of swears in french and other guttural observances. Without taking her mouth off of Hermione's clit, Fleur mumbled, in demand:

"Come for me, now, 'ermione! I need to feel you clench around moi, and milk my fingers..."

Hermione obliged, moaning a loud_ "Fuck!_" while clenching down as hard as a vice around Fleur's fingers, her release trickling around the skilled woman's hand. While she had been admittedly totally unobservant to their surroundings throughout their tryst, as she came, shuddering her final orgasm, she could have _sworn_ she heard the faint "pop" of someone disapparating away.

**XOXOXOXOX**

It had been perhaps the most amazing afternoon in all of the young witch's life.

First of all, she was thrilled to be rescued from the God-awful Diviniations malarky - despite her genuine fondness for the cryptic Head Teacher. Hermione and the giggling Fleur had met little resistance in the abduction from the smiling wizard; they had wisely opted to wait until after potions to abduct their daughter.

"I would ask, though, Ms. Granger and Ms. Delacour, that you inform Mad Eye and Sirius of your whereabouts." He cautioned. "Perhaps Bella, as well, I should think..."

Fleur and Bea ran ahead, gripping the picnic basket; Hermione lagged behind, slightly.

"Albus," His former Head Girl said, thoughtfully. "What's up? I see _worry_, in your eyes."

"No, dear girl. Just an exploding chocolate frog of Mr. Weasley's." He chuckled. "However, I _am_ concerned, since you mention it... regarding the upcoming storm, in fact."

Hermione looked at him like he was crazy. "Albus, you need some fresh air, I think. Look outside! It's gorgeous! Not a cloud in the sky, sir!"

The wise old wizard shook his head. "My dear...I wasn't referring to that kind of storm. I should be prudent, I dare say, to stay close to your Veela, today."

Hermione's expression darkened, as she headed outside of the cabin. She called ahead, to Fleur and Bea, to halt; she was going to heed her former Headmaster's advice. However, as she turned in the direction of the security bunker, a loud _Whiphzzzzz!_ buzzed by the Golden Girl's ear.

"Heads up!" A girl screamed, in warning.

Hermione barely ducked in time as an onslaught of Harry Potter, a much older version; Ginny Weasley Potter, also older, and three children... resembling Harry, but with unmistakable flame red hair atop their mops, zoomed by in the direction of the cottage, all upon Nimbus 8500 broomsticks.

Harry jumped off his broom, and ran towards his best friend.

In a deeper voice, he called out, "Oh my bloody git guts...Hermione Granger Delacour, as I live and breathe!"

Secretly, from the back, where she was hiding behind her Maman, Bea whispered to Fleur, in Veela. _"That's Harry Potter?"_

_"Oui. The boy 'ho lived...in ze flesh! Sort of..." S_he quickly covered up the slip, instead observing,_ "..and now, 2/3 of ze Golden Trio is 'ere!"_

_"But he's so...OLD, Maman! I thought that they were classmates, or something..."_

Fleur sighed.

Bea continued her reasoning to Fleur, arguing in their ancient language. _"And he didn't even get her name right! They couldn't have been that close, if he can't remember her name!"_

Fleur, at that point, closed her eyes. _This was too difficult to explain to a three year old._

Fortunately, she would be rescued by the redheaded spitfire with multiple tattoos and a bright, fluorescent yellow jersey. The older red head looked up with a grin, walking over to the Veela. She wore a yellow Hollyhead Harpies jersey, with the name "Potter" on the back ...her actual real jersey, back in the day. She paused in front of the blonde, then broke into a big grin, slapping her roughly, and the arm.

They gripped the blonde, in a warm (bordering on uncomfortable) embrace.

"_Bloody Hell_, it's good to see you, Phlegm!"

Fleur cleared her throat. "Ah, and you as well...Ginerva." Fleur motioned towards the child next to her.

"Sorry about_ all that shit_ back when I was a auror, Fleur. Y'know, I hated that job!" She hung her head. "Fleur, it's not a excuse...really. I'm sorry I was a bitch, but, I was mostly because I missed playing professionally, and I hated my life then. I actually quit, about one month after you hit the wormhole, and went back to Quiddich...as a coach!"

"Well. Zat's wonderful...I zink?"

Ginny grinned, and her eyes quickly landed on the smaller Fleur, grasping big Fleur's hand. "Hiya, Bea!"

Bea looked suspiciously at her. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet, squirt!" Seamlessly, Ginny changed the subject. "Merlin's beard, look at the two carbon copies of you, just staring at me! Eeek! That's a lot of flipping' thrall!" Ginny looked around. "What'd ya do with with the rest of the brood?"

"Excuse me?" Fleur said, eyes popping out.

It was Albus that intervened, putting his arm around Ginny, appearing out of nowhere. "Ah, Ms. Weasley! Or shall I say, Mrs. Potter..."

"Sir, why do I feel like I'm in detention?""

He chucked. "No such thing, here, dear. Everyone is well behaved. Even this fine young lady," he gestured towards Bea, "who turns all o**_f 3 years of age_** this month!"

Ginny let a very audible "oh crap!" Looking down at Bea, she crouched down. "Hey, freaky-small-adult-trapped-in-an-child's body? I thought you were close to my son's age, like 5 or 6 years old! That explains a lot, though...she said, looking to the Veela and waggling her eyes. "So...I'm going to stop talking now, and see if I can physically pull Harry and Hermione off each other, so the children can meet their grandparents."

"I adore Lily Potter!" Gushed Fleur. "Go. See zem. "

The three of them, plus Dumbledore, walked over to the two intense friends, heads bowed, murmuring in talk. They attempted to pull the "Golden Friends" apart. The snippets of conversations that would float towards them make Fleur wish they had stayed back.

_"But...but...your children are here, too...!"_

_"I know!"_ He said, in angry whispered tones, that floated towards the eavesdroppers. _"The troops of the Imperii__ struck us down, in our bloody sleep, Hermione!"_ The approach of the eavesdroppers caught his attention, and the Boy Who Lived's head shot up. Narrowing his eyes, he warned his friend, "Shh. We have visitors."

She gave him a knowing look. _"To be continued, Potter!_" Hermione whispered.

_"I have my cloak!_" In a louder voice, he cautioned the woman who was heading off. "Be careful, out there!" He yelled to Hermione. "They're calling today 'Thursday...Bloody Thursday'. The _Regula Imperii _is on a rampage today, a bloody pitiful mess, Mione!"

"What set this off?"

"Does the Imperii really need a reason? All I'm saying is, be careful, out there, and don't be surprised if you have more guests showing up at your cottage, if you follow..."

She nodded, and turned to pace off towards her destination, deep in thought.

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

They sat on Hermione's old Griffyndor throw on the ground by the brook, eating happily.

Despite the occasional feeling of foreboding that would trickle into their awareness now and then, it didn't damper the feeling of wonderful normalcy and happiness the three felt, indescribably, together.

Fleur couldn't stop hugging and kissing the little girl; and the two were taking turns tasting every chocolate, from underneath; and despite Hermione's faux protests, she couldn't help put to place dozens of butterfly kisses on Hermione, which would make her squeal and Bea giggle.

After an hour, Hermione lovingly looked at Fleur and squeezed her hand. "Best. Day. Ever!" She grinned, unrepentant.

Fleurs' heart began to swell with happiness . She felt whole; she felt happy; she felt complete. She had the woman she loved, without any barriers or reservations; she had a wonderful child, whom she adored; and for the first time ever, she had friends. Friends who liked her for _her_, and not because of the untoward influence of some stupid thrall. Granted, they weren't alive, but the world was an imperfect place. There was only one thing missing, for Fleur Delacour; and unfortunately, it was an enormous thing, for a Veela.

Family.

_But life is not some child's best seller_, she reasoned. _ It's best not to be ungrateful._

An persistent tapping roused Fleur out of her thoughts. "_Hey!_ Maman! We're talking to you!"

Fleur startled, back to her present. "Oh, I'm sorry! I was..._how you say_...spacing out?"

"No duh!" Bea replied, wiggling into her lap, and putting her arms around the blonde's neck. "So, Mommy and I have something to ask you, 'kay?" Bea seemed extremely figidity, even for her.

"Okay, az long as you hold still, _mon petit remuer ver_!" Fleur gripped her, tightly. Fleur looked up, with a lazy grin, and regarded Hermione. When her eyes met the dark brown ones, instantly, Fleur became serious. She had become adept at recognizing the look of gravity on her mate's face.

"Fleur..." Hermione began, slowly, clearing her throat. "You know, we have had such a complicated journey, you and I; so many things complicated our lives! And now, there is the addition of Bea..."

"The best part, of course!" Bea interjected.

Hermione smiled, "Of course! But between navigating war, ancient cultures, our own misunderstandings..."

"Yes?" Fleur said, curiously.

"...Random science experiments with spells, the Horcruxes,_ graduation._.."

The Veela cocked her head. "Mmmm-hmm?"

"_Muggle_ culture, _Veela _culture...the clashing of the two, and the misunderstandings, between us..."

"Merlin's beard!" Bea huffed, in total impatience. "Spit it out, Mommy!"

Hermione blushed, and was silent, wringing her hands, nervously.

Bea rolled her eyes, turning to the woman in her embrace. With a huff be only a impatient 3-year-old can exude, Bea said, "_Ugh, __Maman_! Mommy wants to know if you'll _marry_ her!"

Fleur looked shocked. Then, a devilish smile slid over her face. "Zen, don't you zink she should be asking, little one?"

"If we wait for her, well, we'll be here all day! And Fred promised me an Atomic Chocolate Frog!"

"What is an Atomic Chocolat Frog?" Fleur asked.

"Oh! Well, its this awesome thing, Maman, where the chocolate bubbles up, and then, explodes in your mouth! You have to get your mouth shut quick or it looks like chocolate vomit!"

"Does it taste good?"

"Oh, yes! It's totally delicious! I saw Sirius eat, like, 5 in one -"

_"-Hello_, people?" Interrupting, Hermione found her voice. "Stay on topic, please!"

The two sets of blue eyes regarded her, perplexed.

_"Marriage proposal_l? Remember? It would be nice to receive an answer, please!"

Fleur raised her eyebrows, and Bea looked at her expectantly. Fleur's lips, while pursed, were creeping into the faintest of smiles. "Perhaps, zen, you should ask nicely, Mademoiselle Granger, oui?"

Hermione nodded, and cleared her throat. She looked off in the distance, for a brief moment.

She returned her gaze to the intense blue eyes waiting for her. "Okay, then. Fleur Isabelle Delacour, I can't remember a time in my adult life when I haven't been in love with you. Excepting Bea, of course," Hermione leaned over to cup her daughter's cheek. "Fleur, You're the only person I want to go to bed with, wake up with, and spend every minute in between...with. You're my everything, and I would be lost without you. Will you do the honor of marrying me?"

Fleur was breathless from the beautiful words.

"Wow, Mommy! That was pretty good! Fleur accepts!" Bea looked at the lovesick Veela whose lap she adorned. "Right, Maman?"

_"Absolutely!_ Je t'adore et vous chérissent tant..." Holding Bea against her chest, she leaned over and kissed Hermione on the lips.

Bea wiggled out of her lap, and said, "well, c'mon then! Everyone's waiting!"

Hermione stood up, dusted herself off, and she and Bea began cleaning up the picnic area, with a confused Fleur Delacour looking on. Hermione shrunk the picnic down to a miniature size, and Bea extended her hand to Fleur.

"Cmon!" Bea said.

"C'mon, where?" Fleur asked.

_"To your wedding,_ silly! Mommy and I set it up, this morning!"

**XOXOXOXOX**

Fleur looked around, utterly flabbergasted.

The clearing around the cottage had been set up with trellises of white flowers, in ornate ladders that framed the entryway and the partitioned area for the ceremony. White doves and hummingbirds hovered overhead. The area smelled absolutely heavenly, and there were rows and rows of people present. The rows of attendees turned, smiling, and looked at them expectantly, as they entered.

In the front, an austere man stood, in freshly pressed robes, albeit the ones he had worn that day. Looking regal as he presided over the important event was none other than Albus Dumbledore, himself. He gave them a genuine smile.

_"Dumbledore_ is going to marry us?" Fleur asked.

"Yes! He's an ordained religious proctor, and he's also registered as a Justice with the Ministry. Conveinent, huh?"

"Don't we need to fill out papers, or something?" Fleur said, her head spinning.

Bea leaned up, pinning a white and green gardenia corsage, on the stunned woman. "No, Maman! You signed it last week...Mommy charmed it to look like my permission slip, and she sent it through the worm hole thingie, and we got it back this morning!" She calmly leaned up to pin the other one on Hermione.

"You two!" Fleur spluttered.

"It's hard to surprise a Veela, Fleur. You inuit too much." Hermione chuckled. "I think Bea and I should be commended!" She turned to her daughter, and pointed off to a direction. " Now, Bea, would you like to go escort the other attendant?"

As Bea turned to go, Fleur said, "Wait!" She looked at Hermione, meaningfully. "I zink zere are some zings we need _to tell_ Bea, before we do zis, 'ermione! She deserves to know."

Hermione had a neutral expression, then merely nodded assent. "You're right, Fleur." Hermione nodded. "Bea, there's something Fleur and I need to tell you."

Bea looked at them. "Is the the part where... you tell me _everyone here is dead_, except the three of us?"

Fleur and Hermione looked at her shocked, albeit for different reasons.

_"What?_" Bea shrugged, nonchalantly. "As if I couldn't figure it out! Mommy, they _wear the same clothes_, every single day! They don't bleed. They don't poop!"

"You're so brilliant, little girl!" Hermione laughed.

"Well, yes. That, and that Ginny Potter lady also told me, too." Bea shrugged.

Fleur brought them back on topic. "Blabbermouth! Allons-ze! Although that is a razer big deal, admittedly, non. That was not what I was hinting at." Fleur remarked. She looked meaningfully between the three of them.

Hermione looked confused.

Bea's eyes lit up, in realization. "Oh! I know! Um, is this the part ...where you _finally admit to me_ that Fleur is my _other_ parent?"

The stunned parents looked at the girl, who let out pearls of giggles. "And no, Ginny didn't tell me that! I figured it out, entirely on my own!"

"How?" Hermione asked.

Bea shook her head. "I just knew. That's all. I knew the minute I saw Maman, actually. But..." she said as she turned to go do her task of fetching the attendant, "I thought I'd make you two work for it a little bit." She skipped off, happily, leaving her two flabbergasted parents at the top of the aisle.

**XOXOXOXOXXO**

Hermione had spelled them into two simple white dresses, trimmed with lace. Simple, elegant, and perfect.

As they walked down the aisle, together, they smiled at Bea, holding the flowers and the rings, waiting for them as she stood aside Dumbledore. She was grinning broadly. Then, they saw that they each had two people apeice, standing for them, as their wedding party. Hermione frowned, looking at her side. "Ron wasn't supposed to be here! When did he get here?" Hermione said, aloud.

She smiled, regardless, as he gave her a broad thumbs-up sign, and a big grin.

As they walked, Fleur's eyes darted over to her side of the aisle, and nearly fainted. Standing for Fleur was Bella, which she would have expected, and a new arrival.

_Her sister,_ Gabrielle.

Hermione squeezed Fleur's hand, tightly. "Fleur, I didn't know Gaby would be here, honest. That must be a new...development."

They arrived, looking at the kind face of Albus, as he said to them in a low voice, "You look beautiful ladies. And, sad to say, but _Thursday, Bloody Thursday_ has claimed many of our loved friends and family, alas. Sorry for springing the new arrivals on you, but I suspected they would stand for you both, respectively."

They nodded. Fleur looked at her sister, and tried hard not to cry. _Who the hell were these people, these infernii? _

"Hold your tits in, Delacour!"Bella hissed, causing Fleur to chuckle. "You're going to make your makeup run, in front of all these lovely people!"

"And zen you would no longer be ze most beautiful witch in ze room, cherie!" Gaby teased.

Her head shot up, however, as a small voice cut her off, speaking in the tounge of the Veela. _"IIndulgeo mihi? Meus matris mos Asquequaque exsisto belle Uneo!" [Excuse me? My Maman will always be the prettiest!"]_

"She speaks Veela, Fleur?" Gaby said, shocked. "She's only 3 years old!"

"Mais oui, Gabrielle!" She nodded, slinking her arm around Hermione. "Zat is what happens when your _ozer_ parent is 'ermione Granger, oui?"_  
_

Bella shushed them all. "Bollocks, ladies, it's irrelevant, so shut your sewer holes! We all know that **I'm** the prettiest one, here!" She grinned, with her perfectly straight teeth that Hermione had insisted on fixing, long ago. Winking at Bea, she continued. "Now, we have that settled, can we get this wedding going, so I can start drinking Fleur's wedding gift I got her?"

Dumbledore merely chuckled, opening a well worn book he carried, dust falling off the pages. "Shall we begin?" He ushered to the pixies, to begin the violin quartet music, which they did.

Hermione gave Fleur's hand a tiny squeeze.

**TBC!**


	14. All The Way

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N: **So, this was actually a part of the last chapter, but I just cut it and made it two since it would have been a jumbo chapter. The theme of "firsts" is big throughout the story, if you haven't noticed. Sometimes one doesn't appreciate how monumental a moment is in the time it occurs.

* * *

**CHAPTER XX: All The Way  
**Place & Time: Somewhere in Great Britain, Circa present day.

* * *

_"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, to celebrate the union of two extraordinary souls, and it has been my honor to watch them as they have grown up, fallen in love, and now, as they come together to become one, and formalize their love in the tradition of marriage."_

A chorus of _Ohhhhh's_ was overheard, and Hermione blushed, slightly.

"I know you don't like a fuss made over you, 'Mione, but try to enjoy this - you deserve it!" Harry whispered. Fleur gave him a wink.

Albus was "on", and in his element. "This is a time honored tradition, the joining of magical souls, and is as old as time itself. I can attest from first hand witness, that the most rare of events occurred between these two souls; the magic of love at first sight. Never have I seen anyone as enchanted as Ms. Delacour, as she saw Ms. Granger across the great hall,_ for the first time."_

More murmurs were heard, and a few sniffles.

"Madame Black, um..." Gabrielle whispered to her fellow bridesmaid, nervously. "Excusez-moi, but um...are you _crying_? Would you like a tissue?"

Bella ripped the offered tissue, and responded in the most menacing manner she could execute, while whispering. "No, of course I'm not, you damn French Barbie doll! Why would I be crying? I'm Bellatrix Black, for fuck's sake!" She fought down a sniffle, then hissed, "_It's not like_ I've been pushing Muddy to get back together with her stupid Veela pet for three - almost four years- now, or anything! When she was so pathetic mooning around here without the silly blonde! Why the hell would I be crying over this sentimental tripe? I used to kill people for a living!"

Bella looked up with horror, realizing Albus was looking at her with an amused and wise twinkle in his eye, and both brides were staring at her. Hermione had a tear rolling down her cheek and a broad smile adorning her face, and Fleur was actively laughing. She glared at the Veela.

"Why the hell am I even standing here, anyway? I hate weddings!"

Fleur reached over, taking her hand, and squeezing it. "Because you are my _best friend_ here or anywhere, Bella, next to my bride, naturallement; and I could not 'ave done zis, wizout you." She gave her a kiss on the cheek, to which the dark witch huffed and blushed. It caused her cousin and Mad Eye, in the front row, to laugh boisterously, which she silenced with a glare.

Albus continued.

"However, as most of you are aware, Fleur Delacour is many things: beautiful, intelligent, charming, brave; however, one thing is is also, undeniably, is a Veela."

He let that sink in.

"For those of you not aware, the Veela revere many things, tradition and family and honor chiefly above them. That is why I am so glad that her beloved sister could be her today, despite the sad events that brought her to us."

A round of polite applause broke out, which caused Gaby to blush, and look down. Bella put her arm around her giving her a grim and knowing look.

"It is likely, that the very love of Hermione Granger is what saved Fleur Delacour from keeping her clan from going extinct; because she was physically here, she was spared."

Murmurs broke out, amongst the crowd.

"Honored guests of the bride, please make our new guests to the ceremony feel most welcome. Ladies?" He summoned.

In walked the most heavenly of procession of beautiful women, with flaxen blonde hair. Fleur's mouth dropped open, and both Hermione and Bella steadied her on either side. Gabrille looked sad, but angry.

"My ... my coven..." Fleur gasped. Despite the support, she thought she might faint. How had the most powerful clan of Veela in all of Europe been singlehandedly wiped out? Bea had run to her Maman, gripping her waist.

"Maman...does this mean..."

"I'm afraid so, mon petit chou. You and me." She said, sadly.

Bea didn't cry. Instead, she looked angry, and determined. Whispering to Fleur, she said, "we must find the evil that did this, and bring them down, Maman!"

Bella whispered to Gaby, "You see why I love this kid? No bullshit, no tears...just takes care of business. I swear, she could have been my daughter!"

Gabrielle said nothing, just smiled demurely at the dark witch in response.

The Veela had finished taking their places, and now the all stood, facing the ceremony. They lined the back of the room, forming a standing half circle, and the tallest smiled at Fleur, with a salutary bow, which Fleur returned, gracefully. The most wonderful thing, Fleur realized while looking around, was that the Wedding guests looked at them, simply admiring their purity and grace; they didn't stare blankly, brains addled with thrall. _ That,_ thought Fleur, _was the best part about...afterwards. No thrall._

The tallest spoke, "Monsieur Dumbledore? Vee are ready, s'il vous plait."

He nodded. "Allow me to explain to our guests, Mademoiselle Cybelle, please." To the wedding party he said, "while our ceremony here, today, is valid throughout the wizarding world and will be recognized and registered as such, thanks to the skills Ms. Granger, and her ability to invent a means to communicate with the Before World, it unfortunately will not be recognized amongst the Veela, as an official bonding ceremony of their kind."

The old Fleur, the cynical being that she had degenerated into before the Worm hole, would have merely scoffed and said a sarcastic "so what? C'est la vie!" to that comment.

But the _new_ Fleur, the_ healed_ Fleur, merely looked down at her feet, sad. She felt despondent that her love for Hermione would never be formalized in the traditions of her past, and didn't realize until this very moment how much that had been weighing on her. The last "Doula" of their clan had passed, and no one present had the authority to perform the bonding ceremony.

"However, one should never underestimate the determination of the brightest witch of our generation," he continued. Fleur looked at Hermione, curiously.

Bella leaned over and whispered to Gabrielle. "Pay attention to this, kid, it's going to be great!" She chucked, and Gaby blushed, once again.

"I dare say, honored guests, that she has outdone _even herself_! She managed to create a transatlantic wormhole, and working with the Veela elders on two separate continents, she has obtained permission for the bonding ceremony, to complete their union in the most ancient of Veela traditions."

Ron and Harry gave Hermione an enthusiastic fist bump.

Fleur eyes were wide, shocked, but unmistakably hopeful. "I don't...'ow?" She gasped. "Are_ you_ presiding, Monsieur Dumbledore?"

"Oh, no." He chuckled. "that would be highly inappropriate! I am not exactly sure how Ms. Granger did this, but I am very delighted to present the wedding party, a late addition to the program."

The Veela began to sing their traditional, hauntingly beautiful, Wedding hymnal. Tears were forming in both Gabrielle and Fleur's eyes, both.

"No, at this point, allow me to introduce my good friend, and trusted ally from the First wizarding war...who _also happens_ to be the last Doula of the Delacour clan of France..."

Gaby and Fleur's heads both swung around, simultaneously, mouths agape.

"...Madame Apollene Chantelle Delacour!"

In sauntered the positively regal Madame Delacour, head acknowledging the Veela coven, who bowed as she passed up the aisle. She absolutely commanded the room, back to her origins, before vials of healing draught and the tortured existence she lived at the end of her life. No, she was simply magnificent. Harry, Ron, and Bella's mouth joined the others, agape.

Hermione and Dumbledore looked at each other, exchanging grins.

Finally arriving to her place at the stand next to Dumbledore, she allowed him to kiss her hand, then hugged him. Gaby and Fleur simply stared at their mother, speechless. Other than a "Holy Shit!" from Bella, the wedding party was silent, as she stood, bemused.

Her first order of business was to summon Bea next to her, who looked up at her Grandmother, with wonderment, a halo of light emanating from her Flaxen locks. Her imperial countenance was broken as she looked at the child, and bending down to her, she grasped both of her cheeks. They looked at each other, communicating silently, in a secret smile.

Finally, Apollene spoke, in ancient Veela. **_"Beatrice, Quid tibi sum nec unquam Magnifique et splendid in omni vita pulchritudini !"_** She proclaimed, in utter wonderment. [Bea, you are absolutely the most magnificent and beautiful thing I have seen in all of my long life!]

_"Lorem aviae, Grandmère..."_ replied Bea, also in Veela, which Apollene noted, with great pride. [Thank you, my grandmother]

"Perhaps, zen, my most brilliant granddaughter, you can teach your Maman and your Tante Gabrielle 'ow to shut their mouths, so sat flies do not fly in and get swallowed?"

She giggled. "Well, I just met Tante Gabrielle, today, Grandmere!"

She stood, commanding the room, looking at the Veela who stood at attention, and had finished the traditional wedding song.

**_"Muliieresi de covina Delacour! Incipiamus! _**" [Veela of the Delacour Coven, let us begin!]

And so it did; the joint Veela bonding ceremony and the civil marriage ceremony of Hermone Jean Granger and Fleur Isabelle Delacour. Bea looked on, beaming with pride at her two beautiful parents, feeling a part of the world, finally.

Another set of eyes looked on, furious.

"You defy me for the last time, Hermione Granger!" It hissed.

**TBC**


	15. Witchcraft!

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N: **Okay, okay. Simmah down, people! _Now_...the big reveal. Everyone keep your pants on! Especially you, Ms. Roselia Rose! (And your little henchwenches, Thel Rome, Cuccino2002, GISA103, and Silentragnarok). Are you friggin' happy, now? A LEGIT Reveal!

**A/N#2**: For reals, peeps, this is not my usual smart ass self: there is a trigger warning of a brief reference to some non-con/incest but is it a brief reference. Nonetheless, it's there.

* * *

**CHAPTER XX: Witchcraft  
**Place & Time: The British Isle , Circa present day.

* * *

"Fleur, we have to talk."

Fleur ran her fingers across the naked and glorious backside of her _now official_ wife. Her_ spouse_. Her_ bonded_ one. The Veela inside her was singing; what's more, it was finally sated. It had had its share of Hermione Granger last night...and then some.

Bea was off, having a campout with Gabrielle, who finally rescued her from the mammoth show-down that was _Bellatrix versus Apollene_ on who would get Bea for the night. They both wanted her, and neither would back down! Fleur chucked a little, recalling the story from Gaby:

_Gabrielle had sauntered up to her, giggling. "Must be nice to be so wanted, eh?" She said to the stunned girl._

_"If I said some of these words, Maman would wash my mouth out with soap! Actual soap, Tante Gabrielle!" Her eyes darted back and forth between the two elder stateswomen._

_"Well, Bellatrix Black was known for being a little...'ow you say, "off-color"...? Back in ze day, petit chou..."_

_Bea's eyes looked at her aunt, squarely. "No! I'm talking about _Grand-mere_! She's the one who has been "off-color!" They might kill each other!"_

_Gaby shook her head. "Impossible! Ne vous tracassez pas, un peu... Zey are both too stubborn to kill each ozer. En outre, marguerite...look at it zis way: zey are both already dead! What, are zey going to make each other...deader? I zink not!"_

_Bea giggled._

_"Would you like to sneak off with your aunt, for some bonding time? We can go find some chocolate!"_

_"Ace! Let's go!"_

Fleur laughed at the thought of the two formidable witches, her mother and her_ de facto_ BFF, both probably still going at it. Thank god they couldn't kill each other again! She started stroking Hermione's backside automatically, feeling the soft curves of her derriere; the Veela in her began to hum.

Fleur's eyes grew dark, immediately aroused, with just that simple touch.

"_Focus_, Fleur!" Hermione said, annoyed. "Bloody hell, I'm trying to have a serious conversation!"

"How can I, wiz what befalls my eyes?" She answered, a trace of a smile curling on her full lips, continuing her lazy ministrations and gentle touches.

"I can..._ get dressed,_" Hermione threatened, firmly. "...if it's _so_ distracting that you can't _listen._"

Fleur shot up, upright. "Paying attention, maintenant!" She saluted.

Hermione paused, thinking aloud. "You know, darling, maybe the nature of this talk...actually _does_ merit clothes, dear. Let's get dressed."

Fleur grumbled, getting up behind Hermione. She already hated this "topic," resenting it professedly as it caused Hermione to put clothes on her glorious body instead of remaining naked. Not a good start at all, Fleur pouted.

**XOXOXOXXOXXOXO**

"I have met the _Regula Imperii,_ Fleur."

"What?!" Fleur said, in disbelief. "The ... the... group from ze future? Ze ones that killed _ma soeur_?"

"It's not a group, _per se_, Fleur. It's a _person._ And the people that follow Regula, are called the Imperii. But it's actually the name of an individual, not a group."

Fleur kept her breathing even. "He sounds very dangerous, Hermione."

"He is - infinitely dangerous. More dangerous than He-who-must-not-be-named, a hundred times over, based on my observations of the level of magic executed."

Hermione let that sink in.

"And actually," she continued, "he is not a _he_. He is a _she_."

"_Wha-_?" Fleur said, stunned. She couldn't grasp anything more evil than Voldemort; and should that creature exist, that it would be a woman! _ Don't they have better sense? _

"How?" Fleur gasped, in disbelief. "And...how are you still alive?"

"Well that's just it. Regula came to inform me of my... _imminent death_. Apparently, at the time of this initial visit, I only had two more months to live, it would seem."

**"What**?" Fleur shrieked.

Hermione smiled, gently. "Relax, darling! Relax,_ relax_... I'm telling this all wrong...I didn't mean to alarm you! My "alleged death" was to have happened over _four months_ ago! Clearly...I _survived_."

"What 'append?"

"What happened? _You_ happened, dear."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Eventually, Hermione decided to start from the beginning and told the story of _Regula Imperii_ in chronological order, as the events unfolded for her, exactly. Fleur listened, on edge the entire time; but she did her best to remain calm through the telling of Hermione's incredible tale. She often had to touch Hermione, reassuring her Veela that her mate was okay. It was to the Frenchwoman's credit, however, that she did not interrupt...that much.

Hermione started from the beginning, which of course, meant the pregnancy...

* * *

**CHAPTER XX: Witchcraft  
**Place & Time: The British Isle Taransay, Circa Several Months Post Graduation.

* * *

Hermione had apparated herself to the remote island of Taransay, after her last interaction with Fleur, rather distraught. She knew she pregnant, but she didn't tell Fleur.

She didn't tell Fleur for a specific reason. She wanted, somewhat idealistically, for Fleur to chose her for_ her,_ and not for the fact she was incubating the Delacour heir. If she loved her enough...she would chose her. And well, you know the rest. Apparently, the unbreakable vow took precedence. She didn't.

(Fleur did huff at this point in the retelling of the story; Hermione looked at her gently and said, "this is what I thought, then. I know that's not the case, now. Besides...it all led to where we are today, and I am doing my best to fix the damage I've caused, dear." Hermione said, somewhat mysteriously.)

The Golden Girl had visualized the most remote spot she could imagine; and she conjured up a memory, of watching a muggle BBC program about the lush beaches and untouched glory of the island; it had the added benefit of the isolated nature of the land, and its inaccessibility. It was perfect. That was exactly what she needed. She had read up on how to have a healthy pregnancy , and had every possible scenario prepared for. She had prenatal vitamins, food, pitocin, IV kits, magnesium, a syringe for a saddle block, and tons of gauze. She had receiving blankets and cord clamps. Hermione Granger was prepared to deliver her _own_ baby.

The brightest witch of her age set up wards to keep anyone but herself out of the miniature paradise she created. And she sat. And gestated, while Fleur's child grew inside of her. One day, a female came to her door, and nearly scared her into miscarriage.

"Bloody hell! You startled me!" Hermione regarded the weary woman closely, and said, "Do you speak English?"

"The King's English!" the stranger said, with perfect articulation. "Hello, Hermione Granger."

"Hello..." Hermione said, nervously. "Who are you, and where did you come from? I didn't see you walk up."

The tired-appearing woman, who couldn't be much older than Hermione herself, regarded her, carefully. After debating with herself for a moment, she finally let out a guarded, "I'm from...the future, actually. I am known as_ Regula Imperii._ I am in charge of much of the world."

Hermione looked a bit skeptical, but having been able to travel in time herself, she didn't totally disbelieve the stranger. "Big job, that. Being in charge of the world."

Regula chuckled. "Yes, it is. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Would you like something to drink? Some tea?"

The visitor cocked her head. "Why yes, I would. But _you_ shouldn't! The caffeine isn't good for the baby."

Hermione's head whipped around. "_Wha-_ how? How did you-"

"_How did I know_, especially since you are only three months along... and not even showing?" The visitor took off her sunglasses, revealing her piercing red eyes, with an intense gaze that made Hermione gasp.

"I told you, Hermione Granger, I am from the future."

The intense woman "from the future" then laughed, a very unnatural, and manufactured sounding laugh. _For the first time_, Hermione felt uncomfortable around this stranger. Her finger felt for her wand.

"_Accio_ Hermione's wand!" The stranger said, disarming the shocked witch. "Still keep it in your leg holster, I see? Going to have to rethink that strategy when you hit 3rd trimester, Hermione Granger."

The stranger rolled her fingers around Hermione's wand. "_I also see_ that you are still using _Bellatrix Lestrange's_ wand, ay? Interesting. An attraction, to the darker side of magic, perhaps?" Hermione couldn't help but stare at the sharp metal claw-like phalanges of her visitor where fingers should have been.

Hermione shrugged. "Unlikely. More akin to the motto, 'Keep your friends close; your enemies closer.' That's all."

Regula nodded. "That's a wise strategy, Hermione Granger."

"Thank you, I suppose, Miss...er...Ms. _Regula Imperii."_

Hermione regarded the woman, attempting to determine if she was friend or foe; unsure, she decided to head inside to fix the tea. Hermione figured that if this stranger was going to kill her or curse her, she would have done so by now. And she would more than likely have been successful. Hermione realized she was "easy pickin's" these days. Regula clearly had swifter instincts than the Golden Girl did, at present. Between the first trimester morning sickness, fatigue, and most of all, her general heartbreak, it was clear the Golden Girl was not _on top_ of her game.

Regula followed the former Gryffindor inside, taking in everything about her living space. She had an odd expression on her face, and remained silent. "So...this is where you live?"

"Yup." Hermione said, matter of factly, while she noisily busied herself preparing the tea. "So. How do you like yours?"

"Black."

"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione chuckled.

They talked about a variety of topics, but oddly enough, didn't touch on the reason why Regula had appeared. She stared at Hermione occasionally, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stick up, and Hermione wondered if the woman was staring at her with ..._desire_, or what it was, exactly. It was a want, but Hermione couldn't put her finger on it, exactly.

It was just this kind of intense ... _want, _for lack of a better explanation.

"You'll have to forgive me, Hermione Granger. You seem uncomfortable. Forgive me, for I am not used to having such an...articulate conversation, with another."

"Why is that?"

"Because... people are afraid of me. And, by design, people are generally stupid, in the future. Imbeciles, really! You are _none_ of those things, and it's rather refreshing."

"Hmm." Hermione said, noncommittal, sipping her caffeine-free tea.

"Hermione Granger, would you be offended if I ...offered to _reinforce_ your wards?"

"What do you mean?"

The mysterious witch chuckled. "Because the Ministry will send people to try to retrieve you. And one or two will be successful, with your current wards, as they are. Do you truly- and I pass no judgements, here- - _truly_ not want to be found? Because I can make that happen. But if this is just a cry for attention, that's another thing, altogether."

Hermione thought about it. After a long moment, and a brief look of sadness that passed across her face, she offered, "Okay, fine! Ward it up, Madame imperial ruler, to your heart's desire! And to answer your question...** no**. I don't want to be found...by_ anyone_."

The woman cocked her head, surprised.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Regula, really? Your name is a derivation of many linguistic forms of words, all with the common interpretation of "Ruler Imperial" or "Supreme Ruler." I'm guessing that wasn't your given name."

"I..." Regula paused, weighing how to answer the question. She narrowed her red eyes, adding the following with a frown upon her face, "I don't acknowledge my_ given_ name. It wasn't fitting, and it was given to me by a witch and a wizard, who didn't deserve to have naming rights of me...at all, in the final analysis."

Her face looked far away, and very angry. She snapped to, immediately, and regarded Hermione with complete neutrality on her expressionless face.

"Enough about me. Let's address these wards, which clearly aren't to par with your regular work."

Regula pulled out her ornate wand. With a determined concentration, she analyzed the existing wards, then she began reinforcing the wards with a layer of spells that impressed even Hermione. While firing off a particularly complex spell, horribly long in duration, Regula mumbled.

"What?" Hermione said. "I didn't hear you."

The future dictator responded quietly. "You are correct, about the derivation of the name, Ms. Granger. I see why they used to call you the "Brightest Witch of the Era." You are as intelligent as you are..._beautiful_." She said it as though it pained her to admit it, out loud.

Regula then became "all business" again, firing off more spells, and finished with an underlayment of a lattice of hexes that Hermione suspected would put Gringott's to shame. "There! All done. The only people that can intersect through, will be cellular matter makes up "you", Hermione Granger. Oh, and I also added to the guest list, myself and of course, your future baby. Everyone else will be splinched."

"Your wand is beautiful, who made it?" Hermione said, making conversation.

"I did."

Now Hermione really did look impressed.

Regula looked nonplussed. "Don't be impressed. Its just there are no wand makers, in the future. Olivanders' was the last wand maker, and when his store shut, it was the last."

"What, do people rely on wandless magic, in the future?"

Regula shook her head, no. "Nope. No wandless magic. It is strictly forbidden."

"So how do witches and wizards perform magic?"

"They don't."

"What?" Hermione said, in disbelief.

REgula shrugged. "They have no need for magic. The government - _my_ government- provides them with everything they could ever need or want. They are satisfied with their existence."

Somehow, Hermione doubted that. "So, you control all of the wizards in, what, England? Great Britain?"

"No. Worldwide."

Hermione spit out the tea that was dormant in her mouth. "Worldwide? All of the wizards?"

"And muggles."

Hermione dropped her cup, which shattered on the floor. Regula pulled out her ornate wand, and quickly spelled it clean.

Hermione was trying to determine the veracity of this statement; if she was the ruler of the free world, or just a raving lunatic who had inadvertently broken through her wards.

"So," Hermione began, in measured tones, "You are the alleged ruler of the free world. The _Regula Imperii,_ as it were. And as such, you can think of nothing better to do, than to_ come have tea_ with some pregnant teenager from the past , on a remote island?"

"Something like that." Regula chuckled. "Well, for one thing, My administration is very efficient. It runs smoothly. And when I travel in time, I return to the same moment I left; I can be as leisurely as I wish, in the trips to the past and future."

Hermione nodded, listening to the crazy talk. If it weren't for the fact she herself had done the same thing with Minerva's time traveler, she would have thought her batty.

"I thought it high time I finally come visit the woman that history deems the "Greatest Witch of this Generation"; and I'm glad I have. You are exactly as billed, and frankly, _prettier_ than I expected! But to be quite honest, I am more interested in your unborn child, actually."

Hermione's hand flew protectively towards her stomach. "What do you want with my baby?"

The visitor's eyes grew dark, a scowl on her face. "_Bea Granger_ turns out to be one of the biggest thorns in my side, as it turns out. She provides much conflict in my life, I dare say. I will be honest...things would be much easier for me if she were out of the picture, entirely."

Hermione's face turned sheet white. She had told no one what she had intended to name her baby; this woman was either hellish at legillimancy or she truly was from the future. And she was going to kill Bea. Hermione began to cast a silent _Protego_ charm, when the woman spoke.

"I would never kill her in your womb, Hermione Granger! That crosses a line. But I am interested in knowing a little more about what makes her.._.her._ She is disturbingly hard to get rid of, as it turns out."

Hermione let a small grin of pride creep across her face.

She set their wands on the table. "As a result, there are many questions I have had about her. Questions such as..._who_ is her father? History never reported that answer."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Well, big bad time traveler, you should be able to figure that out, shouldn't you? Hell, you could go visit the night of her conception! Take pictures! Put them in my museum!"

Regula chuckled. "You actually do have a museum, in London, Hermione Granger."

"Oh my God," Hermione said. "That's the last thing I would want! A museum?"

Again, Regula found herself laughing. "That's exactly what your friend, Harry Potter, said at the dedication! I have allowed it to continue, actually. Some history is not a bad thing, after all." She eyed the Golden Girl, closely. "Was it him? Was Harry Potter the father?"

Hermione guffawed, out loud. "Merlin's beard, Regula! I think you just made me throw up in my mouth, a little bit, there!" The two witches laughed for the better part of three minutes.

Wiping the tears out of her eyes, Hermione said, "Now, stop guessing. I'm not going to tell you! You can't get inside my brain...I've had lots of time to practice my occulmancy, and hopefully the museum taught you that when I set my mind to something, I generally stick to it. Big Bad Bellatrix couldnt even torture information out of me! So you'll have to figure it out yourself."

"Well, see now, that's the interesting thing," Regula said, leaning forward as she tapped a metal claw like finger on the table. "I've_ tried_. Guess what? That time period is warded; the entire two years before you came to this island, actually. this is the first opening, actually, in the time space continuum. Its very curious, that its completely impervious to time travel. No one _in_, no one _out_."

She leaned forward, glaring into Hermione's eyes. "Know anything about that, those wards, Hermione Granger?"

She looked genuinely perplexed. "Was…were the wards specific to me, or to the entire past two years?"

"Somewhere in the middle, I would say. Sometimes just you, sometimes large chunks of certain periods have been blocked from time travel, actually."

Hermione looked shocked, and had a genuine frown on her face. "No, actually I don't. I don't understand who would have put up those wards and restrictions to time travel. I did not. That's curious..."

"Yes, curious indeed." Regula said, sizing up the pregnant woman. Seemingly satisfied, she stood, preparing to leave. "Thank you for the tea, Hermione Granger. You are everything billed, and more. Oh, I will bring you an acceptable alternative to that Feta cheese in your refrigerator, Hermione Granger."

"What?"

"Feta cheese. You can't eat it …it's unpasteurized! _Listeria monocytogenes_."

And then she disapparated.

**XOXOXOXOXOXXO**

Hermione spent a great deal of time thinking about the woman of many paradoxes. A cross between Tom Riddle and Luna Lovegood, was the best she could think of to describe the strange enigma of _Regula Imperii_. One thing about Regula…she didn't make statements, lightly. She was back two days later, with several bags of groceries that she labored to put away _herself._

"I imagine you have a few lackeys to do this kind of thing for you, ay Ruler of the Globe?"

She chucked. "Yes, I do, in fact. Teams of them! It's kind of nice to do it myself, actually."

Hermione leaned against the counter, and watched her effortlessly maneuver around the kitchen, with a purpose. Hermione's eyes drifted towards the metallic tipped claws she had for fingers.

"Regula…" She began, gently.

The dark witch glanced up.

"I'm sorry to pry_,_ but_ ...y__our hands_….what happened?"

It was unmistakable how Regula cringed, slightly, and stiffed up. She didn't meet Hermione's gentle gaze, but rather, busied herself with putting everything away.

"You know," she said in short, clipped tones, "lesser people have been put to death, for asking me inappropriate questions like that."

"What, for showing concern?" Hermione gazed at her. "that's ridiculous!"

"I don't want your pity!" she shouted. "Don't pity someone who can _do this_…" she swiftly grabbed the Metal flour bin, and crushed it with her bare single right hand.

"You owe me a flour bin, young lady! That bin, is who actually gets my sympathy, in this moment, to be frank." Hermione shook her head. "Poor flour bin!"

They both chuckled. But then, an idea struck Hermione. With a slight dread, she asked, "Regula…you …..you haven't done that with someone…like a human, or anything, have you?"

A slightly crazed look fell across her face. "Don't ask questions you don't want answered, Hermione Granger!"

Hermione looked shocked.

"If it helps you sleep at night, it was generally only people who I felt _deserved_ it. Truly deserved it."

"Such as?"

"Such as…_my parents_, by way of example."

* * *

**CHAPTER XX: Witchcraft  
**Place & Time: The British Isle Tarsanay, Circa present day.

* * *

" .Hell? Qu'est-ce que cette folio? She _killed her own parents_?"

Fleur was aghast.

"Yes, it would appear so, Fleur... I learned a great deal about her, during my pregnancy! You see, she would come around... a lot. Her parents were purebloods, of the Voldemort-supporting ilk, from what I understand. She had a very traditional elite English childhood- you know, raised by nannies, expected to perform, the whole bit. She was apparently a very attractive little girl; obviously very smart. Everything overbearing, pureblood parents would wish for."

"Siblings?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Only child."

Fleur nodded her head. "Ah, zen...much pressure."

Hermione looked grim. "Pressure doesn't begin to describe it."

"So, why did she hang around you, zen? The brains of ze golden trio?"

"Ah, I'll get to that, shortly. So, Regula would bring me groceries, things for the baby...she was sure the anthesis of someone ready to kill my future child. She noticed I was lonely, and she suggested a very intricate spell..._Reincarnato_."

"_Vat is zat_? I've never heard of zat."

"Neither had I. It reanimates the most influential people in your life, at the point in their life they were most influential to you. The caveats are, however, you have no say in who comes back, it just goes in order of priority; secondly, they are restricted to a magical boundary that is predetermined. That makes sense, of course; one wouldn't want dead people running the planet willy-nilly."

"_Mnmmm-hm_." Fleur murmured, thinking of the difficulty of the magic, and the skill it must take to cast it.

"For me, the_ first_ to come back was... Dumbledore."

"Naturally."

"Second, much to my surprise, was Bellatrix Lestrange!. Trust me, she was _equally_ surprised! Once we both got over the shock and awe of the crazy, utterly messed up reunion of ours, we learned _a lot_ about each other. Even more surprising was death had liberated her; freed her, really! She is living, in death, as she _ought_ to have lived, in life."

"Zat iz bittersweet, 'ermione..."

"_Isn't it_, though?" Hermione paused, thoughtfully. "Do you want to take a break, have some breakfast?"

"No, not yet." Fleur said, impatiently. Her eyes were deep in concentration.

"Soon, Bellatrix Lestrange evolved, for lack of a better word, into Bella Black, and then more people came. Well, the actual order of the addition of each dead person is just incidental, I suppose...but what was interesting is_ more_ started just _showing_ up! Hanging out! And now, if people die in real time, well, they seem to just be coming out and passing the time, at "Hermione's Secret Forest." It's bloody bizarre...you'd think they'd go to Hogwarts! I've no objections, yet, but I still am getting used to it."

"My dearest...I see zee people,_ every day._ I don't need to hear more about zem! Tell me more about zis "Regula Imperii". I want you to tell me about... ze hands. Ze Veela in me is sensing zere iz somezing is important, oui? Continuer l'histoire,_ s'il vous plaît_ ..."

Hermione sighed, a wan smile adorning her face as she regarded Fleur with love. "Nothing escapes your wise eyes, does it, darling?"

"**No**. Now, continue."

The next part of the recounting appeared especially problematic for Hermione to recount, for some reason. Bonded as they were, Fleur sensed her conflict, and gave her a quick squeeze. Hermione sighed, and spoke.

"Well, the perfect daughter turned twelve, as children tend to do...and she began puberty. However, something interesting happened, unexpectedly at a formal family dinner. Her father said something particularly stinging to her, and she grew angry. And then she began to... _change_, right before their eyes."

"Into what?"

"She didn't exactly know. She grew sharp claws, she remembers, almost like a werewolf's; and her back enlarged, and bones began to push out of her skin from the back and shoulders, and before anything further happened, she was hit with a stunning spell, and passed out."

"_By who_?" Fleur said, in a whisper.

"Who do you think, Fleur?_ Her father_."

"Mon Dieu!"

"When she woke up, her fingers had been _cut__ off_ to the nub! Her back...it _ached_ from a pain she couldn't describe. Anything abnormal they could physically find had been cut out by a wizard healer, of sorts; one who specialized in the Dark Arts."

"Ce salaud! ... zat is disgusting!"

"Get ready...it gets worse. After she healed, and prosthetic fingers had been placed on her hands, she was observed closely and indoctrinated into the evils that creatures and beasts have inherently. She was brainwashed. She didn't know what she was, but she knew it was bad."

Fleur felt an unexplained desolation for the little girl.

"It gets worse. Continue, or go on?" Hermione asked, solemnly. As Fleur motioned to continue, Hermione spoke. "Despite her multiple scars that never healed completely, she grew into a beautiful teenager. She had no shortage of interested males, of course. Her parents were doing what purebreds do...brokering her for a suitable marriage."

"Naturally."

"But then, her father decided, well, he was hers. Why should some other man get to sample what was his?" Hermione said, disgusted.

Fleurs hands were balled up, into Fists.

"And he decided that,_ over and over_, apparently, over the next few months. Then, he would make his wife go in to her room, and punish _her_ for tempting him to stray from his marriage ...and she would."

Fleur was speechless.

"Apparantely, she had found the remnants of her old body, and she took one of her fingers and transfigured some almost exactly the same in a titanium like derived metal, and she put them on like gloves. She spelled them to have qualities of incredible tensile strength and durability; and the first use of them was to crush her fathers head, the next time he tried to mount her. She figured she had to kill her mother as well, and so she waited for her to come in the room, and did the same."

"What happened?"

"She buried them, ironically, in the muggle section of Godrick's Hollow."

Fleur's hand flew to her mouth. She knew what that meant. The very cemetery where the famed Harry Potter's parents were buried. "C'est folio brilliant..." she exhaled.

"I know," Hermone said, gathering the sheet around them. "That was terrifically brill, wasn't it?"

"Zen what happened?"

"She was clever, at that point. She played the part of the mourning daughter, and because she was almost of age, she was allowed to be emancipated. She came into her inheritance, and she finished school, excelling. She learned Dark Arts, along the way- no she didn't attend Hogwarts, by the way, and was always evasive about where she did go; so don't ask. She then, over the next five years, worked diligently at the Ministry, working her way up the ranks-"

"In a very 'ermione Granger-like manner." Fleur interrupted.

"Perhaps. Or maybe... like a Fleur Delacour, had you not been sick, with the loss of your mate?"

Fleur shrugged. "Who knows? It iz irrelevant now...I have you now, cher, and I am perfectly healthy!"

Hermione indadvertedly had a flash of desire that coursed through her, triggered off Fleur's want, and she murmured, "Mmmm... Don't I know how _'perfectly healthy'_ you are, these days!"

Fleur giggled, thinking of her demonstration of health last evening and this morning..._seven_ times.

"Anyhoo, Regula worked like crazy at her job,during the day, and then even harder at night, attempting to learn who she was and finding clues on the fragment of her old body parts. It wasn't until she discovered a nearly half-crazed healer, one who had worked for Voldemort himself, that she figured it out. This evil healer that she located outside the town of Valenciennes correctly identified the remnant shards of what she was."

"V_alenciennes_? That's rather close to my old school, Beauxbatons!" Fleur said, shocked.

Hermione paused, taking a long drink of water that was next to her bedside. "Yes, Fleur. It is. And it was probably why it led her to the discovery of what she was."

"Which _was_?" Fleur asked, pale as a ghost.

"A Veela, Fleur."

Fleur gasped, nearly fainting.

Hermione gently stroked Fleur's hand, softly. She let the shock rest, for a moment before she continued, once she heard Fleur's breathing gain control again. Hermione continued. "She grew furious, Fleur, absolutely furious! She learned of these creatures, having never even heard of a Veela before, and she went to where the healer told her there were a few families, known to be Veela. It was there she encourted a Véronique Montbelliard-"

"Merde! I know ze Montbelliard family!"

"I know you do, it is likely how she extracted the next bit of information out of her. She tortured poor Véronique, until she wrought the confession out of her, that she, Regula, was intact a Veela from the Delacour clan. The exausted, nearly dead, Veela had sensed it about her."

"No...no...zat is impossible..."

"You have a huge extended family, Fleur. Why is it impossible?"

Fleur was silent, chosing to shake her head, in disbelief, instead. She barely heard the next part, as Hermione grimly recounted it. "So then, Fleur, as this poor woman was nearly dead, Regula struck the final blow."

She looked at Fleur, knowing the gravity of the next action. "She _plucked a single hair,_ from her head..."

Fleur gasped, knowing it would kill the Veela, immediately.

"...and used it, as her core of her wand, to craft the one she uses today. A wand that has been used for much Dark Magic, having been taken in such a way."

Fleur rattled off a bunch of angry words, in French, that was too quick for Hermione to totally follow. "Elle est le diable incarné! Il n'y a pas de mots pour quelque chose de si map ! Cette méchante femme doit mourir, 'ermione!"

"I have no idea what you said, dear, but I'm sure you're appalled, as I was. However, Bea was born immediately following, and I had problems, of course. In fact, I would have died, Fleur, from the bleeding, had it not been for..."

"...zat Monster?" Fleur interrupted, incredulously.

"Yes. That monster. Who fortunately did not seem to realize, in my mind, at the time, that Bea was 1/8th Veela, thank God."

Fleur was just shaking her head.

"She healed me quickly. Turns out this Regula was amazing skilled at a multitude of things. She had apprenticed with a healer, and knew how to heal my body and care for the baby. She even kept her alive for the first day, as I was too sick to nurse, initially."

Fleur's eyes were still angry, but it was waining some realizing the paradox of this woman who preserved a Veela's life after taking one.

"I learned over the next few months, that Regula had apprenticed for many different types of people: a wandmaker, in Olivander's; the French, Italian, and Hungarian Ministry; A healer, in England; and on and on."

"Vat? How did she have ze time?"

Hermione laughed, bitterly. "That's exactly what I said, Fleur! Well, it turns out, when Bea was about two and a half years old, that I started putting it together. Regula had consolidated her power by being everywhere at once. After her 5 year stint in the Ministry, she quickly assumed the Assistant Undersecretary, and then in an overwhelming demand by the public, outsted the actual Minister, and assumed control."

"The public wanted her in charge?"

"She had a very devoted following. And the dissenters would seem to ... disappear. Just vanish."

"Odd. Mmm."

"Not so odd. It's very Voldemort, actually. She learned from his mistakes, however. Anyway, once she assumed control, she began to take over other regions, and countries, one by one, until a global kingdom was established, worldwide. Once established, she instituted a government program, very selective, that administered a skills aptitude test to all adults and children. Anyone with an IQ over 80 was "transferred" to somewhere else."

"And let me guess...zey never returned from sat somewhere else place, correct?"

"Indeed. She had, in effect, dumbed down the entire planet, reducing the population to 1/3 of what it once was, which is Frightening. And unlike Voldemort, who "split" his soul and sealing it will a murder of another, she had learned how to "reinforce" her own soul, with murder. Although it took her a long time, and I'm sure the suffering of millions of people, she did garner the benefit of at least several million individuals' souls, in the reinforcement of her own."

Fleur was breathless, unable to grasp the _multitudes of people_ this dark individual must have killed.

Next, was the institution of "Gratitutious wand reduction." Each household was allowed only one wand, at first. Over the next five years, she slowly eliminated that one wand, altogether. The only wizards that had wands were her inner circle and a small group of 'Enforcers.' Less than 50 individuals have wands, in the future."

"What? But how..."

"Wizards began to live like glorified muggles. Magical schools no longer taught magic, rather they taught vocational skills that that area needed, in order to keep a civilization going. Woodworking, metallology, culinary schools; she converted the entire magical world into one big muggle society, all devoted to her, in a mere two decades."

Hermione paused, taking another drink, her hand shaking as she put down the water.

"In parallel, was the termination of magical creatures. Her dumbed down army of devoted soldiers, the ones that had their wands in the beginning, were tasked to hunt down all magical beasts and creatures. She was successful, mostly with driving almost all species into extinction with the exception of some Centaurs, a majority of the Veelas, almost all of the aquatic species, and the Humdingers."

"How? How was zis possible, how? How did she do zis, 'ermione?" Fleur demanded.

Hermone looked grim. "She happened, early on, to gain, in her possession, an intact time turner and a detailed anthology of notes, detailing all of the magical properties of time travel. The notes were fastidious."

"Where? Who's notes?"

Hermione looked at Fleur, sadly. "_My notes_, Fleur. She got _my_ notes."

"What?" Fleur's eyes flew open, in disbelief. "Your notes?"

"I had been given a time turner by Professor McGonnigall. I returned it to her after I realized the problems that it caused, but after graduation, she gave it to me as a present. I must have used it more, and researched it, in my time here, before I died."

"But how did it come into her possession?"

"Well, this is where it gets tricky. You see, in the original timeline, Fleur, you grew more cranky, and irritable, and sick; in fact, had you _not_ gone through the wormhole when you did, you would have died approximately six weeks later."

'"What? How is that possible?" Fleur's mind raced, thinking back to that time. She searched Hermione's face, but in her heart, she knew the words were true. She knew herself, back then, that she was dying without the life sustaining force of an accepted bonding.

"Fleur, _you know_ how it was possible." Hermione said, attending to Fleur's shock, only briefly. "And apparently, in the original timeline, I died eight weeks later, right after you. Of a broken heart."

Fleur gripped her mate in a tight embrace, tears rolling down her face, from the echoes of a past she knew to be accurate. The loss, the desolation; she had almost once lost her Hermione!

Hermione, her one true love. "Je suis désolée.."

"I know, Fleur. Me too."

Hermione kissed her, gently, but pulled away. Looking Fleur in the eyes, she said, "there's one last part."

"We'll let's get it over wiz, my stomach is 'orribly upset, az it iz..."

"This should finish it off, then." Hermione said, bluntly. "Say goodbye to your stomach, darling! Well, after I died, all of the protections of the island vanished, and my body and my child were discovered. The child was put into the care of one of the "best" families of England, who had been infertile, and they passed this child off, as their own."

Fleur's eyes grew wide.

"Despite the fact I was muggleborn, they recognized the potential in the offspring of a bright mind. In addition, Bea was - and is- gorgeous; they didn't realize she had Veela blood in her. No one did! I hadn't told _a soul_ of your... "contribution". It died with me. And apparently, before I died, and got too sick, I protected the time frame of the conception, recognizing the potential danger. When she turned 18, my personal effects came into Bea's possession, as did the identity of her true mother."

Fleur was trying to wrap her head around it, trying to remember the past, present, and future and understand how they all interlaced. "I..." she said, unable to find the words.

Hermione just grabbed her hands, and held them gently. It was unmistakable, the determination in her voice.

"When Regula told me the story of what happened to her, and what the world became, I transported myself back, 6 months prior. I didn't want to cause a paradox or vortex, if I told myself; so I found the person who I knew would help. I told Bellatrix everything! She, in turn, relayed it to me, the "me" of the past. Bella then erased parts of my memory, the ones that revealed I strengthen the ward, to protect me."

She looked at Fleur, her lip quivering. "Then, I knew...I realized the danger and stupidity for not having _fought for you_, and for not allowing Bea to be who she truly was." Hermione's voice broke. "I didn't know! I didn't know I would die..."

Tears were now adorning her face, as well. They sat quietly, until Hermione felt she could continue.

"Some of the others had crazy ideas. Snape actually wanted me _to kill_ Bea!"Hermione said with a snort. Recognizing the fury in the Veela's eyes, Hermione quickly added, "Bella took care of him- she said it felt good to_ Cruico _someone again, finally! Anyway, Dumbledore and Bella and I concocted a plan, with the help of Mad-Eye, as well. Fortunately I had created a wormhole in the wards, unknown to Regula; I contacted the ministry, and told them to send you. The idiots sent a bunch of other people, at first, who naturally died."

Fleur snorted, thinking of how stupid their government could be, at times.

"They finally clued in, in the 11th hour, and sent _you_, Fleur. You didn't realize how close you were to death, but I did."

Fleur nodded, solemnly.

"You passed through the wormhole safely, because you were_-and are-_ an integral part of Bea, and you are woven within my internal fabric, for lack of a better term, and have been, since our eyes first met, right? Regula didn't realize that, hadn't planned for that inherent flaw created! I did, however. That oversight allowed you to enter. It allowed me to decrease a worm hold. " She cleared her throat, looking suddenly weary. "Then, things began to change, in her timeline. As you bonded to Bea, things began to fall away, or change. Regula didn't like it. She was always watching, Fleur. Always. And one day, she realized she could understand Veela, when she heard you two talking. She grew incensed, and so furious, I was so sure she was going to kill me! She was so angry!"

Hermione shook her head.

"She still didn't...and doesn't... recognize who you are to her, exactly. But she _does_ blame you as being responsible for keeping me alive and creating all these changes in the timeline."

"Oh,_ I'll change ze damn timeline_, all right!" Fleur said, fiercely, feeling her fingers extend into the beginning vestiges of talons.

"She sought to punish you...and went back in time to the first slot available that wasn't protected, probably around 2 months after you arrived here. She had her henchmen kill all the Delacour clan. She realized, however, arriving on the scene, you weren't one of them."

Fleur shook silently, with rage.

"Apparently, your sister put up quite a fight! She took down nearly half of her Enforcers, single-handedly...so I hear."

Her sister, who she loved so dearly, who probably had her daughter up to some royal mischief or something.

Hermione continued, snapping Fleur out of her short-lived day dream. "So, then, the next insult, and I presume this must have been after you taught Bea how to fly or something, Regula comes to me, the maddest I've ever seen, and was ready to kill me, on the spot!"

"What? Why?"

"She had her wings back! She had her original hands! In short, she remained intact. Apparently, she understood what she was, and was able to hide it from her adoptive parents."

"So...why didn't _zat _change ze time line?" Fleur asked, slowly.

"Because they were still ass-hats, apparently, and her father and mother found other reasons to commit the same horrible actions to her. They just found different excuses...it just wasn't under the auspices of her being a "creature." and the horrible cycle continued, anyway."

Fleur shook her head, sadly. Hermione held her gently, until her rage passed, and she transformed back into completely human.

When she had calmed enough, Hermione continued. "It was Bella who saved me, Fleur! I was sure it was the end... Regula had her wand pointed at me, prepared to torture me for the information she wanted, and Bella stepped between _her_ and _I_."

"But...wouldn't ze spell of Regula's go right through Bella?"

"Yes, but Bella used something more powerful than a spell, Fleur, to protect me."

Fleur furrowed her brow. "What waz more powerful, zan a spell?" She asked.

"_Logic_, Fleur.** Logic** was more powerful." Hermione took a breath. "She wisely reasoned with the fellow dark soul that if she killed me now, I would never due the intrigue note taking and additional work with the time turner necessary for Regula to acquire her power. Like it or not, she had to let things play out."

"So what did she do?"

"She saw the wisdom in the Death Eater's words, and left. But she gave me a present, in return, to remind me who welds the power. She gave me _Thursday, Bloody Thursday_."

"Ah." Fleur said, understanding.

"And somehow, Bella and Dumbledore had figured out how to open the wormhole to allow for any dead people to enter, and they themselves are able to cast the spell. Hence the appearance of all these new additions, from that slaughter."

"I can't imagine what the two of them can come up wiz. It'z frightening, oui?"

"Very much so." Chuckled Hermione.

"You know, 'ermione..."

"Yes, dear?"

"I don't zink Bella iz a dark soul, actually..." she said, cautiously. "She 'az been ze_ best of friends_, to me. I 'aven't 'ad many friends, in my life, because of my thrall. Men are mindless around me, women despise me. I sought zat you, as my mate-unaffected by my thrall- would be my only true friend, and my family; and zis time here, on zis remote island, 'az been really pretty wonderful."

"I know, me too! It's not like I had _tons of friends_, either, Fleur! I will miss Bella, _so very much_."

With a great sadness, Fleur sighed. "But sat is what we 'ave to do, isn't it, 'ermione?"

The smartest witch of a generation nodded. "Yes, Fleur. It's is what we have to do. We have to go back, and reclaim our lives in the world. We have to raise Bea into the woman she ought to be...not the woman she became!"

"I want to say goodbye to Bella, and ze rest."

"Of course, darling. But we must go soon. This starts with us! Not to alarm you, but ..." Hermione's eyes sized up her mate's. "Fleur, I sense Regula is getting... _desperate_."

**TBC.**


	16. The Last Dance, Part I

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N: **Yep. This is the end, my before we say "adieu, adieu, to yew and yew and yew" and twirl off into the sunset like the Von Trapp family singers, let me warn you...there is kinda a lengthy epilogue coming, as well.

* * *

**CHAPTER 15: The Last Dance, Part I  
**Place & Time: Somewhere in Great Britain, Circa present day.

* * *

Fleur and Hermione walked along the meandering path of the brook, holding hands, and smiling at each other. The day was beautiful; they had truly enjoyed themselves.

But truth be known, they missed their daughter and their extended family. So they decided to head back to the cottage, early.

As they neared the clearing that meant they were only about a mile away, the hairs on Fleur's neck began to stand up. "Oh no..no! NO!" She shrieked.

"Fleur? What is it?" Hermione said, immediately worried.

"It's Bea! She's in danger! They're all in danger!"

Fleur began to sprint, with Hermione closely in pursuit; and when Fleur's Veela acute sensory perception kicked in, and she heard the whimpering of her daughter...whimpers of _fear_...it did her in.

She immediately transformed; feathers sprouted, bones cracked and pushed out from her back, and her layered wings unfurled, extending towards the sky. Her fingers elongated into talons, and the former Beauxbaton's champion went airborne.

Hermione gasped, stopping dead in her tracks.

She hadn't seen Fleur's full transformation since she was a 4th year at Hogwarts. Then, Fleur had been the equivalent of a teenager, an "almost" adult Veela. Now, there was no mistaking the powerful form of the fully matured creature that Fleur's inner creature had become. Fleur did a backwards dive, gliding upside down, and grabbed Hermione, flipping her to her back.

"Vatever you do, 'ermione..._do not_ let go, ma belle!"

"Fleur," Hermione said, tightly, "There is a roughly a_ 0% chance_ that I would be interested in "letting go". You do know...I'm afraid of heights, correct?"

"Our daughter iz in jeopardy, zere is no time for fear, main tenant!"

**"I know, I know! Go**, Fleur...just_ go_!" Hermione gasped, gripping on to Fleur's silvery downy feathers for dear life, as Fleur went soaring in the direction of the trouble.

**XOXOXOXOXOX**

"Well, well, well...I was wondering when you two sapphic lovebirds would grace us with your presence...nice of you to join us." Regula chuckled. She added darkly, "and I see one of you is literally a love.._.bird_. How enchanting." She said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Hermione looked in horror as all of the "revived" inhabitants of her island were imprisoned behind a clear boundary; the cell walls would burn and melt the body part that tried to approach it. Mad eye moody looked like a candle that had been microwaved, having tested the perimeter unsuccessfully. They looked at the Golden Girl, sad and helpless.

"Let's turn up the heat in there, what's say?" She said, gloating, as she flicked her wrist causing the prisoners to groan. "Three more degrees centigrade, Hermione Granger, and you can say good bye to your friends! They'll melt like snowmen in August..."

Hermione marched up to the dark witch. "Where is my daughter, Regula? What have you done with her?' Screamed Hermione, getting in her face.

With one thrust, she forced Hermoine off of her, sending her flying almost 100 feet to the rear.

"I've tried to be...patient, with you, Hermione Granger," Regula said, angrily. "But you just have to keep on sticking around, don't you?" Her nostrils flared, and her eyes glowed with anger.

She turned to look at Fleur, who had transformed back into her human form. Regula pointed in her direction. "Because of this thing? This creature? You're already spreading your legs for someone else, now, Hermione Granger? What about my biological father...what, you just spread your legs for him, then decided you're gay?"

She turned to sneer at Fleur. "And not just gay...no, not for Hermione Granger! Gay perversion _and _bestiality! Fucking a creature, a filthy beast, no less! A _filthy creature_!" She shrieked.

"Pardonnez-moi," Fleur said angrily. "Might I remind you, Mademoiselle, we are the** same** type of creature?"

"**No**, we aren't!" Regula said, horrified. Sparks literally flying off her hands, she was in such a state of emotional turmoil. "I am_ nothing_ like the... filth, that you are, you disgusting Veela!" Casting a peripheral glance at Fleur's mate, she hissed, "Stay back, Hermione Granger!"

Regula raised her wand pointing it at Hermione, keeping her at bay. With her other hand, she squeezed the air that seemed to somehow magically choke Fleur. All the while, her eyes never left their determined hold on Hermione. "You can watch me choke your inappropriate love toy, Hermione. You can watch her die, first! Then, after it gasps its last breath, then you must die, Hermione Granger...it is predestined. It's _your_ destiny. You gave up..."

Regula froze Hermione's feet in place. As decreed, Hermione was literally watching the dark witch her daughter would become choke her mate.._.to death._

"No!" She screamed, tears running down her face. "**No! **Regula! Don't do it!"

The dark witch fed off the fear in the air, so palpable, and delicious to her. It seemed to encourager her further, and make her stronger. She grinned, an evil grin with Hermione's cries for mercy.

"How I will _love_ to kill your filthy Veela!" Regula now turned her attention to Fleur. "You _creature_...you despicable creature! Who are you, to alter **my** timeline? My plans? My supremacy! Things had an order, you vile creature! And then you..." she squeezed harder, Fleur noticeably gasping. "You waltz in, with your Veela beauty and charm, and come and fuck _every single thing_ up! So badly, in fact, that even I, with my superior magic, can't seem to undo your meddling into my mother's life!"

She watched Fleur struggle some more, with satisfaction.

Regula raised her chin, and narrowed her angry eyes in Fleur's direction. "Well,_ I won't have it,_ disgusting creature! It is written: Hermione Granger_ will die_! It is **my** destiny!_"_

_"No!" _Wheezed Fleur, weakly, her movements becoming noticeably still.

"_Prepare to die, _creature!" Regula said, squeezing, while aiming the wand directly at Hermione's throat. The tendons in her arms were popping out with the sheer force she was exerting on applying Fleur's chokehold. Tears streamed from Hermione's eyes, as she watched helplessly.

The dead people, trapped behind a barrier, were also watching, horrified. Most were paralyzed, but Ginny and Harry pounded on the barrier. Those who could, all tried to find a weakness, all unsuccessful. Finally, they resorted to begging.

"Stop!" Shrieked Harry and Ron, in unison.

Their pleas fell on deaf ears; the monster before them was enjoying torturing Fleur Delacour. She started to salivate, as she realized Fleur was close to the end, and she would suck her soul out from her, right in front of Hermione Granger. However, before that happened, before Regula Imperii could declare victory and finish Fleur off, a tiny, almost inaudible voice called out, seemingly out of nowhere.

"_Stupefy_!"

A green bolt of light and a blue bolt of light fired simultaneously, from the dark witch's right flank. The two spells hit her, squarely on the arm, knocking her wand hand backwards, and causing her hand to quiver, allowing Fleur to take a gasping breath. It also caused her to lose her concentration, enough so that Fleur could wriggle free and get more air to her lungs.

"What do we have _here_?" Regula said, arching her eyebrow, zeroing in on the culprit.

The dead people's eyes, as well as Hermione Granger's, all followed Regula's beady glare. As Hermione turned around, her eyes widened.

"**Bea!** NO!" Hermione shouted.

Running across the field as fast as her two little legs could carry her, she had two wands, one in each hand, aiming directly at Regula. Two wands...her _mother's_ wands.

Barely audible from so far away, she hollered, "_Get away_ from my Mommies, you rat's asshole!"

"Bea!" Hermione said, stunned.

Regula chuckled. "What did you say? I didn't hear it all, but I heard 'rat's asshole.' I see you have been hanging around Bellatrix, haven't you, child?"

"Yes..." She said, as she quickly fired a _Protego_ protection spell off, casting protection charms around her two mothers, of which, Fleur was finally regaining full consciousness. Physically arriving to the scene, breathing hard, Bea challenged, "...And she's a _hell of a lot_ better at dueling than you, you piece of crap! _Get away_ from them!"

She positioned herself as the last stand between her mothers and the dark witch. Bea stood, her chin jutted out, seemingly unaware of what a dangerous spot she was in.

"So _chivalrous_." Regula Imperii said, her eyes flaring red. The look on her face caused Bea's hands to shake, slightly. But Bea stood resolute, and didn't drop the wands. Defiantly, she gave the witch a challenging look.

The dark witch said, calmly. "You're brave, little Bea. I don't want you to witness the killing your mother, Hermione Granger, so forgive me, little one..."

As she got ready to hex her younger self, her younger self underwent the first Veela transformation of her young life. In shocking quickness, the dead onlookers watched, shocked, as Bea hissed as her bones cracked, fingers elongated, and feathers sprouted. They watched, amazed, as her eyes went from a royal cerulean blue to flashing red; and they couldn't take their eyes away in the moment she dug her newly evolved talons into the forearms of the dark witch who had a wand, pointed directly at her! The same dark one who had been momentarily stunned and horrified watching the Veela transformation, along with everyone else. The witch, who was screaming due to her new and unexpected forearm wound.

Howling in pain,_ Regula Imperii_ hissed, "You disgusting creature! Do you know what you have done?" the blood oozing from her wound dissolved and the onlookers, including the young Veela, watched as the wound healed itself miraculously within seconds.

The Veela flew overhead, in a clearly offensive posture, still protecting her mothers still in harm's way.

"Leave my Mommies alone!" She demanded in a menacing hiss. "Leave us alone.._all of us_!"

Wincing, Regula held her forearm, that despite the healing, was still a bit sore. "Mommies?" she said, confused.

Looking back and forth, between Hermione and Fleur, the evil witch glared a Bea, muttering to herself. "Impossible!" She hissed, to the young girl, now fully transformed in one of the youngest Veela conversions ever.

"No, no impossible." Bea said.

Regula's eyes narrowed, then her eyes went wide. "Fleur Delacour is ... your parent? That's impossible!"

"Not if you're smart, like my other mommy is!"

"Bea!" Hermione commanded. "Don't tell her anything!"

Regula tilted her head towards Hermione. "Well, well, well, Hermione Granger. You're just so full of suprises, this evening." Glaring at the wheezing figure of Fleur, she sniffed. "You mated with... an _animal_. You gave your beast a penis? So she is even more of an abomination than normal? Priceless...That's beneath you, Hermione Granger! Did she muddle your brain with her evil thrall, convincing you that you were in love with her?"

"No. I had to convince her she was in love with me, actually." Hermione said in all her Gryffindor courage.

Now her headache was piercing. "Foul creature! Shall I beat you, and train you to be in my stable, Fleur Delacour?"

"I...will...kill you..." Fleur gasped. "Shut your fucking mouth!"

Regula raised her eyebrows, then cast a nasty Crucio that caused Fleur to buckle to the ground in pain, and caused Bea to cry along with Hermione. Bea flew directly at Regula, and knocked her to the ground, mercifully releasing Fleur from the tortuous unforgivable.

"You are a bad, _bad_ person! You are yucky! You...you suck!" Bea screamed, striking blows to her chest and face. She then retreated, and positioned herself between Fleur and Regula.

She called, quietly so only Fleur could hear, over her shoulder. "Psst..Maman! Can you transform?"

"Non..." Fleur whispered, sadly. She had been weakened too much.

"That's okay!" She said brightly. "Then I will protect you, Maman!" Bea spread her wings, covering Fleur from sight.

Regula shook her head, in disbelief. "She has_ bewitched_ you all, I see! What is it about this filthy Veela...this Fleur Delacour, that has everyone so bewitched? Little one, you would do well to distance yourself from her kind."

"She's my Mommy!" Bea said passionately. "She is my...everything! You want to kill her? You kill me, first!" She said defiantly.

Regula's eyes widened in disbelief, and she seemed to have a sudden headache. She frowned, rubbing her temples, clearly confused and angered. The witch from the future raised her wand, squinting her eyes in apparent pain, aiming it at the young Veela's head.

"No, Regula! NO!" Sobbed Hermione, helplessly.

The dark witch was somewhat erratic, as she prepared to curse the child to sleep, or potentially worse, when a when a booming voice called out behind them:

"_Consopioii!"_

The spell hit the child with bright embers and a crack, and Bea fell, gently to sleep, on the ground below. Standing behind her, was a daunting Bellatrix Black, an angry look on her face, wielding her wand, née Hermione's, in hand with the grace of movement she was famous for.

"If _anyone_ is going to put her to sleep, Regula, it's going to be someone who loves her! _Not_ you. Not in **my** lifetime...or afterlife!"

"You're **dead**, Bellatrix Lestrange, remember? What can you do, to save her? To save them?" She gestured at Hermione and Fleur, as Regula quickly covered up her surprise at seeing a free Bellatrix. "But I am curious: How did you escape the wards, Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Bella scoffed. "Those little things? Please! I'm the _big leagues_, dear...You're going to have to do better than that." Then, she uttered wordless spells, releasing Hermione and Fleur from Regula's hold, again shocking the angry witch.

"Take Bea...take her somewhere, safe." Bella commanded the mates. Gesturing at the fierce woman in front of her, Bella said, "Look, I'm going to have a little talk with this one..._girl to girl_."

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

Snape looked around to the group, his disgust clearly on display. "Surely, I am not the only party here that feels the fact we have sent Bellatrix Black off, as our representative...to be the "ambassador of the last chance" and hold the fate of the free world, not to mention the lives of the Delacour-Granger's...is potentially complete and utter insanity?"

There were a few murmurings of agreement throughout the group, then the scruffy Co-Head of Security stood up. Sirus Black walked up to his former nemesis, and whacked him hard on the back.

"Yup, it's total fucking lunacy, Sinivilus! _My cousin_, Bellatrix, in all the years I've know her, has the diplomacy skills of a Nimbus 2000!" Sirius grinned broadly. Then he schooled his features, and said earnestly, "That's why it just might work... This is what you call a ..._ think outside the box,_ type of situation."

Severus merely arched his eyebrows at his former tormentor.

"Oh," Sirus added, "and Snivilius. Stop calling me ... Shirley!"

"Ba-dam Bum!" Fred Weasley provided the rim shot, and they high fived each other.

A gentle voice silenced the room, effortlessly. "Stop calling him Snivilus, then, Shirley." Lily Potter said, pointedly. She exchanged a look with Sirius, and then a kinder one with Severus.

The dead people all flustered around, arguing, until one voice made an important observation: Minerva McGonagall.

"Still..." Minerva said, musing in the direction of the Potter family, with Ginny and Fred, "it's...titillating, really!" She said, a playful look on her face. "How can you not wish to be a fly on the wall, at the conversation that will soon take place between those two?" She chuckled. "_Priceless!_"

"Priceless, my arse! If either hot head is capable of an actual conversation, that is!" Added Molly, concerned.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXXO**

Bella was in the unusual situation of trying to talk someone _else_ off the ledge.

She tried all the soothing and placating words that had been used on her, over the years, that she could remember. She spoke softly and gently, she didn't make sudden movements. The dark witch would have none of it, her eyes fire red. Bella's words were about as effective on Regula Imperii as they were on _her_, back in the day.

Finally, Bella gave up with a huff, and started screaming profanities at the woman.

That caught her attention, naturally.

"Look," Bella said, now with her attention at last, "Regula...whatever your name is. Give me ten minutes...please."

"Seven."

"Fine." She walked closer towards her, speaking low. Bellatrix scowled, in frustration. "Okay, listen, you crazy bitch...I get it. I understand that you want to kill your mother and your other mother. Fine! Shit, I wanted to kill mine every damn day! Although," she paused philosophically, "In my defense, my mother actually _deserved_ it. _Yours_ don't."

There was a bone crushing sence between them.

Bellatrix sighed. "You're raging, angry, all that...okay, well before you go all bollacks ape shit, just listen for _ seven fucking minutes_ before you go nutters... I will call off the resistance."

Regula arched her eyebrow. "Go on. I already said yes. You have my full attention for seven minutes, Bellatrix. Although," she chuckled, "it wouldn't be much of a resistance. I killed half of the people in that hovel, once!"

Bella grinned, replying, "Yeah? Well, I pretty much killed the _other_ half."

They sized each other up, a faint smile on both faces.

"Take a walk with me, kid..you can go pillage and maim after a brief recess!. Let's head towards the pond."

"And leave my prisoners? Not wise, is it, Bella? Why should I do as you say?"

Bella huffed, exasperated. "Because, bitchly-witchly, I'm asking _nicely_," she said with emphasis, "...and because secondly", Bella looked over her shoulder. "I can feel Snivilus' disdain from here. It's annoying me."

"As you wish." Regula said, chuckling.

The two dark witches walked off, all eyes that remained conscious gazing upon them. They were mostly silent, as they walked to the water. Regulia noticed that Bellatrix was not walking very well, over the uneven terrain, and finally spoke.

"You seem to be having some ... discomfort, Bellatrix, ambulating..."

"_Ambulating_?" Bella chuckled. "Who the fuck_ talks like_ you? Ambulating! Just say it. I'm walking like I'm 100 years old, and I look like shit! And while you're at it, call me Bella. No one called me Bellatrix but fucking idiots from my past life."

"Okay...Bella."

"And can we just cut the shit, so I can just call you _Bea_? Because this "Regula Imperii" shit is ridiculous!"

"It...serves it's purpose." She said, neutrally, no expression on her face. "I haven't been "Bea" in my lifetime...in a long time. If ever."

"Well, I happen to like that kid, and _I'm_ calling you Bea! If I'm not calling you an _arse_, which I may do as well, that is." Bella said, nearly falling at a narrow passage. "_Bloodyfuckinghell_! One is not meant to hike in these damn heels!"

"No." Bea/Regula agreed, in amusement.

After a few more moments and many swear words later, they finally arrived at the lake. It was beautiful in its serenity, and had always been one of Bella's favorite places on the island. Water had always been calming to her, all her life.

They sat, gazing out on the water.

"I know why I'm getting weaker," Bella said, finally. "_Hermione and Fleur_...well, they are getting ready to take Bea**...you**...back to the world and reclaim their lives, aren't they?"

"_Mmm_." Her companion said, lips tight, remaining neutral.

Bella nodded. "And I assume, when they go, we - us dead folk- are _done,_ right? Poof! **Gone,** girl. Back to being just plain ol' dead, right?"

"More or less, yes."

The former Death Eater narrowed her eyes. "What the fuck does that mean, more or less?"

"All except _you_, Bella. If you get some bright idea, like you might want to try to kill me...if you are somehow successful, you will spend the rest of eternity inhabiting your soul in your tenth year of Askaban."

"_What_?" Bella said, enraged. It had been the darkest of her despair, that tenth year. No hope, no future, just misery. And this fucker somehow knew that! She looked at the woman next to her, with the malevolent grin, and forced herself to calm down. Bella willed her emotions not to best her.

She calmed her mind and recalled the young girl whom she adored, and tried to remind herself she was in there, somewhere.

In a very controlled voice, the former death eater grimaced, remarking, "Bravo, Bea! If that is even true, as it was _Hermione's_ spell, not yours... I would commend you with a "nice touch". That's something in the 'really shitty department' type of thing **I** would have done, back in the day." She exhaled.

Bea/Regula arched her eyebrows. "Do you_ dare_ call my bluff? Even if that spell originated with my mother, she is weak! I promise you, my magic has far exceeded my mother's. She never was capable of exploiting her darker tendencies, where the true power lies."

"No, she _chose_ never to develop that." Bella corrected. "There's a difference!_ Quite_ a large one, in fact. And might I remind you, you have _two_ mothers."

Regula's face twitched, and while Bella was not completely certain, she thought she saw her face "fuzz out" for a fraction of a second.

The younger witch seemed to gather herself, responding, "Not in my time line, I don't."

Bella had learned many things about tactics in her lifetime. Lesson one: keep them guessing. Never be predictable. Taking a page from her own manuel, Bella stopped with the defensive posturing, and immediately plopped down, on the grass. She cocked her head up, looking at Regula, still in her aggressive stance. Bella leaned back on her elbows, and gestured to the spot next to her.

"Yo-kid! Take a load off!" She patted the spot next to her.

Regula's face scrunched up, and she furrowed her brows. Then she laughed...wickedly. "Ah, the predictable Bellatrix Lestrange! Trying to disarm me, are you? Well, two can play this." She sat down next to the dark witch, mirroring her relaxed pose, leaning back on the grass.

The two witches looked out on the water, for a while, a comfortably uncomfortable silence dveloped between them.

Bella watched the mallards swim, and mused out loud, "I wonder if they can see me...us...you know, us dead folk."

"Worried about your infamy being forgotten, lieutenant?"

"Oh, fuck, no!" Bella laughed. "I sure hope to hell that **does** become a forgotten memory! I don't want to be remembered that way."

Regula seemed amused. "Really? And how do you wish to be remembered?"

She turned to stare the red-eyed woman dead in the face. "I wish to be remembered as the person who finally learned how to love another human being., and finally got it. I wish people to remember me as leaving a mark in the world, and valuing something bigger than myself."

"And what might that be?"

"_My friendships_ with your mothers, Bea." She said, softly.

Regula laughed, cynically. "Measured, how? By their pathetic attempts to talk to dead people?"

"No..." Bella said, softly. "By_ this_..."

Swiftly, before Regula could react, Bella had removed the cursed dagger from her robes, and with a deceptive swing of her arm, stabbed it directly into Regula's foot, piercing it all the way through, and pinning her foot deep into the ground underneath it.

Regula hollered out in agonizing pain. "_You bloody fool! _Do you know what you have done? _You dare-_"

With a fury, Bella cast a series of wandless spells, causing Regula to immediately go mute, then a variation on the_ petrificious totalis_, causing her to be paralyzed.

She then mounted the woman from the future, leaning into her, with a crazed look on her face. She pulled the dagger from the woman's foot, which began to bleed furiously and Regula winced with pain. Bella brandished the bloodied knife to her throat. Regula, despite her paralysis, clearly looked afraid. Bella's face was laced with insanity, and she hummed to herself.

"Oh, this is beautiful!" She giggled. "You and I, Regula Imperii, are going to have that little chat, now..._girl to girl._" She cackled.

She held the knife dangerously flush with the neck of the paralyzed woman. Bellatrix cackled. Then she screwed up her face into mock concern. "Oh, dear! Is the ittle-bittle _ruler of the world_ afraid of _little old Bellatrix_?" She let out her blood curdling cackle that was her signature call. She then moved, swooping her face into Regula's, close enough that they could share a breath. Leaning in, she whispered, "Because...she should be!"

Regula's eyes widened.

Bellatrix laughed, then she leaned up, sitting on the paralyzed woman's pelvis, and looked down at her. "But not for the reasons you think, you pompous ass!" She said, her voice again sounding sane.

Bella dismounted from the stunned woman, and reached down, grasping the still bleeding foot, and in one touch, stopped the bleeding. She murmured a few spells that immediately healed up the foot. She could tell by Regula's expression the pain was gone. She then looked back down at her, ensuring Regula was watching. She then pitched the cursed dagger into the pond in front of them.

Looking back at the younger witch, she said in a low and dangerous voice, "You should be afraid, _Regula imperii,_ not because I hate...but because I _love._ Love! Bea, because I love your mothers so very much, that I don't give a flying fuck what you do to me! I love them that much, Bea. They are worth it."

She then uttered the counter-spells to the ones that immobilized her in the first place. Regula moved her arms gingerly, making sure everything was working. "You will regret doing that, Bella, and you will regret undoing that, as well."

Bella arched an insolent eyebrow in her direction. "Can you just shut your pie hole, for one minute, for fuck's sake? Woman, you are like a one note record! Enough with the threats! That was what we call, "an attention getter." Now that I have your attention, let me tell you, I did entertain the idea of killing you outright, actually, but your stupid mothers talked me out of it."

"That would not happen. The actual timeline would not allow for that to happen."

"What? Me killing you? It most certainly would, crazy lady! For example..." She grasped the startled Veela's fingertips. "Look at these babies! Real fingers!"

"Of course they're real fingers! Why wouldn't they be?"

Bella laughed. "You don't remember, do you?" Bella gazed out into the water, mulling over how to respond to that. "The timeline. That's an interesting thing, isn't it? Especially when its in such flux, and all."

"You are mistaken, Bella-er-Bellatrix." She said, with emphasis. "the timeline is_ not_ in flux."

"It is...it is indeed! That's why you're fighting, so hard, isn't it? Because the timeline is changing...all because Fleur changed the dynamic, didn't she?"

Regula said nothing.

"I'm right!" Bella cackled. "I see what's happening, here! You're fighting for your life! Your _very existence._ Fleur's return...their love...it changes the timeline for good, doesn't it? It changes_ you_! And you being the dark, depraved witch you are, don't want to see that happen!" Bella was pacing, as she did back in the day. "Bloody hell, can it _really_ be that simple?"

Regula's face remained impassive. "There is nothing simple about this at all, you... _has been_!"

Bella laughed, tears coming down her eyes. "Oh my ...fuck, is it really this obvious? You're just like Tom, you know that?" Bella said, finally catching her breath. "You can't debate the facts, so you debate ad homonim! That's how I always knew I was spot on, with him, bye the bye."

Regula's eyes were starting to turn red.

"Okay, simmer your fucking Veela ass down, kid! I hate it when Fleur does that, as well!" Bella flicked her in-between her eyebrows, startling the woman. "She hates it when I do that, as well."

"I can't imagine why." Regula said, dryly.

"Something about disrespect, or some crap like that." Bella chuckled. "I have a question, Bea...so you've mastered the timeline. Well, what happens when something changes in the past to the resultant future? Do you remember it?"

"Sometimes yes... sometimes no."

Bella leaned back, putting her hands behind her head, thinking. She turned her head towards the stoic woman laying next to her. "Then I take it, you dont remember when you had those metal claws, instead of hands, because your idiot father cut your Veela talons off, then, do you?"

Regula looked shocked. She strained, vaguely remembering the gloves with the metal phalanges that she had to fit over her nubs that remained...and the very distant memory of the utter pain from having them cut off in the first place.

"Ah-hah! You do vaguely remember!" Bella said, pointing in her face. "You do!"

"I...I am not certain..." Regula said, uncharacteristically confused, the memory seeming familiar, but difficult to remember, exactly.

Bella picked up a wheat strand and put it between her teeth, chewing as she looked out onto the pond. The sun was out, and it was reflecting across the surface of the pond. Bella chewed on the weed, thinking.

"Bea, I want to ask you two questions, if I may. First, is the obvious. If you could have a second chance would you take it?"

_"What?"_

"A second chance! Would you take it?"

"I don't know what you're implying, with this "second chance," Bella."

"Mmmm. Don't answer that, just yet. My second question is: if your answer is no, then why the fuck hell not?"

They were silent again.

Finally, Bellatrix spoke. "There is no one here-no one- who understands that dehumanizing insanity that develops, growing up in families like ours, Bea." She looked at the other girl, meaningfully. "No one! You and I have very powerful pureblood lines. It was the only thing that mattered..." She said bitterly.

"But the one lesson that stuck: power! Power trumps all, Bellatrix Black."

"Perhaps," Bella said, faraway. "But let me see if I can convince you, otherwise. I've seen fire, and I've seen rain...but I have also seen better. I want you to see it, too."

"What's in this, for you, Bella?" Regula said suspiciously.

"Well, the altruistic benefit of helping a girl I love from her misguided track, of course."

Regula scoffed. "You're a Black. Slytheryn house was invernted for you and your kind! Get real. What's really in it, for you?"

Bella laughed. "You're a quick one, arn't you?" She shook her head. "I need you to do something for me... Call me an old romantic, I guess. I want to answer my destiny. But I need you to help me achieve that- I need a favor."

**XOXOXOXXXO**

End of Part 1 of 2.


	17. The Last Dance, Part II

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N: **Yep. This is the end, my before we say "adieu, adieu, to yew and yew and yew" and twirl off into the sunset like the Von Trapp family singers, let me warn you...there is kinda a lengthy epilogue coming, as well.

* * *

**CHAPTER 16: The Last Dance, Part II  
**Place & Time: The British Isle Tarsanay, Circa present day.

* * *

When Last We Left Our Gals...

_[Bella picked up a wheat strand and put it between her teeth, chewing as she looked out onto the pond. The sun was out, and it was reflecting across the surface of the pond. Bella chewed on the weed, thinking.  
__"Bea, I want to ask you two questions, if I may. First, is the obvious. If you could have a second chance would you take it?"  
"__What?"  
__"A second chance! Would you take it?"  
__"I don't know what you're implying, with this "second chance," Bella."  
__"Mmmm. Don't answer that, just yet. My second question is: if your answer is no, then why the fuck hell not?"  
__They were silent again.  
__Finally, Bellatrix spoke. "There is no one here-no one- who understands that dehumanizing insanity that develops, growing up in families like ours, Bea." She looked at the other girl, meaningfully. "No one! You and I have very powerful pureblood lines. It was the only thing that mattered..." She said bitterly.  
__"But the one lesson that stuck: power! Power trumps all, Bellatrix Black."  
__"Perhaps," Bella said, faraway. "But let me see if I can convince you, otherwise. I've seen fire, and I've seen rain...but I have also seen better. I want you to see it, too."  
__"What's in this, for you, Bella?" Regula said suspiciously.  
__"Well, the altruistic benefit of helping a girl I love from her misguided track, of course."  
__Regula scoffed. "You're a Black. Slytheryn house was invented for you and your kind! Get real. What's really in it, for you?"  
__Bella laughed. "You're a quick one, arn't you?" She shook her head. "I need you to do something for me... Call me an old romantic, I guess. I want to answer my destiny. But I need you to help me achieve that- I need a favor."]_

**XOXOXOXOXOXO**

Bella pulled out a pensive, from her robes, waggling her eyebrows with a laugh, but only causing Regula to scoff.

"Who travels with a pensive?" She said, incredulously.

Bella arched her eyebrows. "I realize its not a snazzy as _your_ technique of creepily hiding and spying on people, time traveling and and stalking the memory directly in the past...but forgive us_ less enlightened_ souls," teased the dark witch, as she assembled the simple pensive on the bank near the water. "...And to answer your question: Hermione Granger does. That's who travels with a pensive, of course."

Regula rolled her eyes. "Naturally. She's hopeless."

Bella slapped her odd companion on the shoulder, hard. "Ow!" She said, surprised. It had been so long since anyone stood up to her, much less touched her, it was an almost pleasant surprise. "What was_ that_ for, Black?"

She put her finger in the younger witches face. "You will not disrespect your mother...either one...in front of me, understand?"

When she said nothing, Bella stepped on the area of her foot that she had previously stabbed, looking down at the red eyes below her. She knew it must be painful, but the younger witch didn't move, flinch, or ask her to stop.

_"Capiche_, Bea?"

"Are you sure you're British, and not Italian, Bellatrix Black?"

"Oh, Bloody hell,_ this again_! Yes, damn it!" Raising her foot off of Regula's wounded one, she walked back to the smoking bowl. Satisfied with her work with the pensive, she said, "Well, hot pants? We haven't got all damn day!" Pointing towards the smoke, Bella ordered, " Jam your noggin' in there, toots!"

"Somehow, I didn't expect such colloquial language from a _revered pureblood_ such as yourself, Bellatrix."

Bella shrugged. "Being dead is ...very liberating, actually." She furrowed her brows, look at the witch who was staring at her. Bella rolled her eyes, and palmed the back of her head, gently pushing her head towards the silver fluid . "Plus, I've been hanging out with Mad-Eye Moody more than I care to admit. Oddly, we have a lot in common. Now, we haven't much time, so let's get it moving, crumpets! Look!" She commanded, and added as an afterthought, "Um, please. If you would, your most supremely supremest ."

For reasons undefined, Regula raised herself up, hobbling over on her injured foot, and complied with the request. Look she did.

It was all she could do not to pull her head away, in fact.

The dark witch from the future saw intermixed bits and bobs of Bellatrix Black's life, as horrible as her own had been. The discipline that she endured, as the oldest, to spare her two younger sisters missives. The thinly veiled disappointment of her father, Cygnus Black the III, that the oldest wasn't a son, despite the fact Bella was described as the brightest child to grace Hogwarts in years, perhaps ever. The beatings. The dark magic. Her mothers complicit neutrality as Bella was beaten within an inch of her life, over and over.

Regula, despite her lack of empathy, actually felt stirrings in her heart. She pulled out, angrily. "What's the point of this, Black? So you had a shitty life. Boo-hoo. You also led a very privileged life, as well, as I recall."

Bella remained silent. After a long pause, she spoke. "Yes, and there were a few good moments, here and there, I supposed. This was merely for comparison, Bea. Now, look again. Put your head back in, please."

Shaken, Regula obliged. She placed her head into the smoky folds within the pensive.

This time, the house was bright, and quite ornate. She could hear the laughter of girls echoing throughout the hallway.

"On fait la course jusqu'à la fin, la grande soeur !" A beautiful young girl looked up admiringly at her big sister, who Regula recognized immediately as a much younger Fleur Delacour. Their house was simply palatial! And, so bright, filled with so much sunlight...so many flowers!

Pictures of the two girls and the family were everywhere, decorating the house. This was a family, in every sense of the word.

A stern woman, gorgeous in her nobility, stood in front of the two girls, a serious look on her face. She folded her hands behind her back, looking at her two daughters. "Qu'est-ce que c'est ?" She asked, seriously.

"I'm sorry, Maman! It's just... I zink I can beat Fleur, sis time! I'm much bigger, now!"

The woman said, "What have I told you about racing in the house, pumpkin?"

Gabrielle hung her head, "I..um..."

"I said..." She paused, eyeing the mock finish line Gaby had set up at the end of the hallway. "I said...ne laissez jamais votre Maman vous batter !" She said, as she peeled off, and started sprinting towards the finish line.

"Hey!" Fleur called, getting Gaby's attention, and the two sisters immediately began sprinting off, after their mother. They all tumbled at the finish line, breathless, laughing, and hugging each other.

Regula frowned, pulling her head out, only to have it pushed back in by Bellatrix.

"You're not done." She growled.

This time, she observed a platform, one that she had seen many times before. It was platform 9 3/4, the one at King's Cross that the Hogwart's Express would utilize to take many children to their school. Children such as her mother, and her friends, Harry, Ginny, and Ron...all people that the dark witch had personally murdered with satisfaction, to prove a point.

Regula huffed. It didn't take long to see the memory's focal point.

At the platform stood a very young Hermione Granger, standing nervously with her two muggle parents, looking equally nervous. They were hugging her and kissing her and crying...all things that Regula never once had experienced in her stiff departures to her school. ("Crying and flaying about is quite unrefined," her mother said. "Undignified of a family of our standing. Goodbye, dear. Don't embarrass us at school.")

The Grangers were completely different. Tears fell openly from both parents; but they were smiling like blubbering idiots, Regula noted with puzzlement. Then she heard the words that caused her to still, completely.

Hermione's mother uttered sincerely, "My dearest daughter...I'm so proud of you. I don't understand this "witchcraft" stuff, of course, but I do know this: you are a Granger. Even if I don't understand it, I want you to be the very best witch you can possibly be! If you try, really give it your Granger all, your father and I will be so proud of you, even if it is foreign to us, okay? You may have to explain some stuff to us, when you come home at break though!"

"Are you sure, Mom?" Hermione asked, nervously.

"Of course, dear!" She said, embracing her, fully. "I didn't raise you to sit on the back of the bus." She smiled. "Of course, if everything that Professor McGonagall said is true, you will probably never take a bus again in your life, I suspect." She kissed her on the head, once more.

"Love you!"

"I love you too, Mom!"

Regula pulled her head out. "Lovely, Bella. So sweet, I think I may throw up. Are we done, here?"

Bella paused. "You tell me. _Are_ we done?"

"You're not my teacher, anymore, Bellatrix!" She snarled, standing up and preparing to walk away. Bella lunged for her, pinning her to the ground.

With a grin, she said smoothly, "I didn't say 'class dismissed' yet, Bea." She sat up, dusting herself off, eyeing the younger witch. "And no, it's not dismissed if you didn't get the obvious message in neon flashing lights above your head."

"And what is that?"

Bella huffed, annoyed. "Oh, God, is it that bad in the future I have to spoon feed you, Bea? You used to be so bright!" Bella said down again, fatigued, and looked at her compagin, wearily.

"Your powers are weakening, Dark Witch." Regula noted.

"As are yours." Bella responded. She rolled her head to the side. "I once heard the saying, 'broken people come from broken homes.' I...I didn't want to believe that, of course, because I never wanted to think there wasn't any hope for me. But, in many ways, Bea...it's true."

Regula was silent.

Bella rolled to her side, propping herself up on an arm. She looked and felt exhausted. After a moment, she asked, angrily, "Really, Bea? Really? Are you so numb, that you can't admit what's plainly in front of your eyes?"

With the last of her effort, she grabbed her lapels, and pulled herself close to Bea. Angrily, she berated the younger witch. "Alright, then let me say it...who do you want to raise you, Bea? Those fucked up purebloods who we called our parents, you and I? Those people who abused us...yes, abused us! And had the nerve to call us the disgrace! That's who you choose?"

Bella was shaking now, livid with her fury.

"Because you, unlike me, have a choice, Bea! Damn you, its right in front of your face! Look at Hermione! Look at Fleur! Look at how their lives are...the fabric that makes them...them! They had role models, you stupid git! They had parents that loved them for them, and not some perverse notion of who they should be...mostly."

Bella fell backwards, her weakness clearly accelerating. "There's not much time, Bea. Choose. Choose now! What will it be? Hermione and Fleur? Or, your old life?"

Regula mulled it over, and looked at Bella with an expression that was unfamiliar. The mask was off, and the woman underneath looked...afraid. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "I chose...my mothers."

"Oh, Merlin's Ass!" Bella said, falling backwards. "I'm so glad, Bea! Come here." She said, forcing the dark witch into an uncomfortable hug. Her voice raspy, she said, "You know, as much as I made fun of the Weasels...I was always jealous of the fact their mother made them a sweater every year. What I would give for a mother who loved me that much, you know? You have two mothers that love you, and you chose, and I'm glad. Because, my dear, you actually really didn't have a choice. But I wanted you to realize that it was your choice, all along."

Regula looked confused, until she heard the semblance of a sonic boom behind her, and wild cheers. "What is that?" She said, whirling her head towards the noise.

Bella closed her eyes. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe that is the sound of Hermione, Fleur, and young Bea, jumping though the worm hole, as it closes for the last time."

"What?" Regula said, angrily. "Worm hole?"

"Yup." Bella said, matter of factly. "You didn't think you were actually going to outsmart Hermione Granger, did you?"

"But-"

"She put a worm hole in the defense perimeter."

"But that's- I personally reinforced the -"

Bella held up her hand. "Save it, Bea. How do you think Fleur got here, in the first place?"

She whirled back, eyes furious, fixing on Bellatrix. "You knew! You knew, Bellatrix! This was the plan, all along! You were merely distracting me, so they could get away!"

She raised her fist to strike Bella, and Bella disarmed her, by scooping her into her arms, squeezing her in a real hug. "I did deceive you... a little, I admit. But I was very serious about wanting you to choose. I wanted you to get to the conclusion yourself, Regula Imperii. And_ you did_."

Squeezing the angry witch until she calmed somewhat, she said, "Because my beloved Bea Delacour Granger...Regula Imperii is who you_ became_. But it is not who you were destined to be, my dearest."

Bella was crying now, huge genuine tears. She clutch the witch by her face, and said with heartfelt earnestness, "You are the daughter I never had, Bea, and it tore me up to see you go down the path I once walked in darkness!" She shook her head, her dark ringlets cascading down the sides of her face. "Especially because...because you deserved better, Bea!"

After a long pause, she responded quietly, "So did you, Bellatrix."

They sat there, quietly, looking at the sunset, holding hands. Bellatrix looked over to the witch lost in thought, and asked her a question.

"So I say again: Bea, do you believe in second chances?"

Without turning her head, she replied, "I'm beginning to think so...why do you ask?"

In a manner uncharacteristically shy for the brash former Death Eater, Bella said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Do you think it's too late...for me?"

Bea rolled over to face the weakened woman next to her. "No, Bella, I don't. I have a new appreciation for the idea that... It's never too late."

Bella gave a weak smile to her companion, and looked back out at the sunset which might possibly be her last.

**FIN.**

(But, there is a rather long epilogue coming, I swear.)


	18. Epilogue Part I

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N: **Okay so this is really the end. Three little weeny epilogue chapters and then I'm signing off. I will save my gratitutious thank yous until the last chapter of the epilogue.

* * *

** EPILOGUE I: You'll Never Walk Alone  
**Place & Time: The Battle of Hogwarts, Circa May 2nd, 1998; Scotland.

* * *

Hermione was fatiguing. Despite the combined attacks of herself, Ginny, and Luna in concert, she hated to admit that her dueling skills were no match for Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione watched as a killing curse whizzed by Ginny's head, practically trimming her bangs.

"Shit!" Ginny uttered.

Bellatrix cackled, and this caught the attention of the matriarch of the bunch. Jumping into their battle, Molly Weasley, who prompty threw off her cloak and wanted vengeance with the Death Eater who tried to hurt her ducklings. Bellatrix was clearly not taking Molly seriously in the least, taunting her over the death of her son, Fred.

_"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?_" Bellatrix taunted the middle aged woman. "What happens When Mummy's gone the same way as_ Freddie?_"

The taunt only steeled her resolve. "_You — will — never — touch — our — children — again!_"

As she got ready to lay down an unforgivable, and cast it directly into the evil witch's chest, a voice rang out. "Stop! Molly! Bella!"

The two swung their heads around. A strange looking woman, garbed in unusual armor, jumped up on the podium where they dueled. Holding her hands up. She flashed a badge at Molly.

"Special Agent Imperii, Merlin's Order."

Molly gasped. The Black Aurors! The Unspeakables!

Bellatrix gazed at her incrediluiously. The Black Auror turned to face the Death Eater. "I'm sorry for blowing your cover, Agent Black, but it's time. We need you back at HQ. Our sources confirm that Potter will defeat Voldemort, so you don't need to sabotage this further. Your job is done here."

Bella looked wide eyed at the stranger.

Molly, Hermione, Ginny, Luna all looked up at the strange looking witch disbelievingly. "Folks, Agent Black and I are needed elsewhere, urgently. There is a bigger crisis brewing in South America, and they're asking for you by name!" She looked at Bella. "Agent Black?" She held out her arm, to disparate, which Bella took, almost mechanically, not saying a word.

"But...but she killed my son!"

The stange agent was busy placing googles on herself and Bellatrix. "Sorry, Ma'am. Collateral damage. Our stratigest pinpointed him, because unbenonst to you, he had a tumor growing and was going to die a painful death in six months post the Battle of Hogwarts."

"Oh..." Molly said, the wind knocked out of her.

Luna waived at the two witches. "Goodbye, Agent Lest-I mean, Agent Black! I guess that explains why you were so hard to duel!"

Bella still looked shell shocked, to which the other Agent only chuckled. "This is why we don't go deep undercover for this long, Black, but noooo! You had to tough it out!" The dark witch turned to the four dazed witches left. "I would refrain from telling anyone about this, by the way. Someone from our squad will be by, afterwards, to obliviate this memory. Keep collateral damage to a minimum, ladies, please."

Hermione nodded. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Mom." The Auror said, as they left with a Pop!

**XOXOOXOXOXOXOXOXOOX**

"Where the hell are we?"

"The Island of Tarsanay."

"Where?" Bella said, furious. The strange witch was watching her, amused, which only enraged Bellatrix further. "And what's this poppycock about the Dark Lord being defeated?"

"No poppycock. Potter kills him with the Elder wand."

"Potter is dead! My own sister confirmed it!"

The smug witch grinned. "Oh, Bella. No, honey, Narcissia is one of ours as well, remember? She lied, dear! Potter is alive."

Bella was staggering, wishing she had her wand that the other witch had somehow managed to nick from her. "If all this horseshit is true, then why don't I remember any of it?"

Agent Imperii rolled her eyes. "Standard Operating Proceedure TM-985, Bella! You fucking wrote the rule, in fact! We implant peoples memories, take out certain memories, and then when the mission is done, boom! We reimplaint your brain."

"Right."

Agent Imperii held up a pistol that had a syringe filled with a silver liquid in its carterage. "You ready for your memories, Bella? Because your spouse is eager for you to get back home, I hear. Lay down here, please."

She gestured towards a gurney inside a hut.

Bella huffed, but climbed up on it.

Agent Imperii leaned over, the "memory gun" abutting Bella's right temple. "Now, this doesn't hurt, but you will be knocked out for a little bit. Sorry."

"Hey! By the way...who is my spouse, anyway?"

Agent Imperii motioned for her to be quiet. "Let's just say...you redefined the term, "cougar," Agent Black!"

* * *

**EPILOGUE I: You'll Never Walk Alone  
**Place & Time: The Isle of Tarsanay, Circa Graduation at Hogwarts

* * *

Regula watched the sunset, again, with Bellatrix by her side, albeit this time, unconscious. She had remained so for much longer than the others - Kingsley Shacklebolt, Narcissa Malfoy, Rita Skeeter, the actual head of the black ops division, and Professor McGonnigall; Regula presumed it was only because of the bulk and volume of memories she had to reimplant into Bellatrix. She couldn't implant them all at once, in fact. She had to do it over a six month period, in slow intervals.

She sighed.

This last round was a doozy. She needed Bella to regain consciousness; Regula could feel her powers fading, fast. Clearly, Hermione and Fleur were reestablishing their life and each day was causing Regula to fade just a little bit. Truthfully, she didn't mind as much as she thought she would have initially; however, she was growing nervous about completing the task she had promised her former mentor.

With a groan, Bella came to. "Holy fucksticks, my head! Damn it all to hell, Imperii, what the fuck?"

"And hello to you, too, Bella! Ready to head back to HQ?"

"Did you at least bring some tequila, or some shit like that?"

Agent Imperii chuckled. "No, but I think Kingsley has some for you, waiting at the Ministry. Are you ready?"

"No, but let's go."

They side along apparated to the last place anyone would have ever thought Bellatrix Lestrange would ever willingly go - the Ministry for Magic, 2nd floor.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOO**

"This is where I leave you, Bella."

"What?"

"Yup, I'm already late for my check point. You know how Kingsley gets, about that shit. But listen...I want to give you something. One last thing, from me."

Bella cocked her head, and tried not to assault the woman as she came very close to her. Agent Imperii place her hand on either side of her head, and murmured some indefinable words. Bella felt warmth shoot through the hands, and fill her body. It was the most marvelous feeling; it dissolved any aches and pains she had, and she could feel herself standing up straighter.

"What the hell was that, kid? A healing spell?"

"Hmm. Something like that. A long time ago, I took things that didnt really belong to me. You taught me that that was wrong, Bella. You taught me better. So I'm going to release those things, back to where they came from...all except two. The two, I feel, belong to me."

"What?"

"I don't expect you to understand, anymore. But suffice to say, it was two people who didn't deserve to live. I have no qualms about giving a little of that to you..because frankly, you'll need it."

"Need what?"

"This," the mysterious witch said, spinning Bella around, so she faced a reflective surface in the hallway of the ministry. Gone was the hardened grizzled shadow of beauty she once was;instead, Bella stood, as she once was, before her youth was exchanged for a Maniac with ideas of pureblood supremacy. She felt her cheeks and face in disbelief.

"What? How? What did you do? Why did you do this?" Bella asked, in wonderment, her joints no longer aching.

"Why?" Chucked Agent Imperii. "Well, I have 35 reasons, on your behalf, why not."

And the mysterious witch just vanished, without a further word, leaving Bellatrix utterly confused.

**XOXOXOXOXOX**

Bellatrix walked into the Ministry, knowing she was an employee there, yet feeling as though she could be arrested at any moment. What she didn't expect, a mere 8 months after the last battle, was the reception she would receive.

She looked around, in utter disbelief, as every room she walked into, people would stand and applaud. She was beet red by the time she reached her destination, Bella rubbed her head, trying to shake of the sense of foreboding that crept into her skin. She walked into the meeting room, with the collection of other unspeakables, and the director. When she walked in, she stood on guard, her wand at her finger tips.

She opened the door, to a round of cracks and explosions - and she dove under a table, launching a _Protego_ over her head in defense. Then she heard it.

Music.

Laughter.

And then a gentle, "sister, while your defensive skills are admirable, why don't you come above sea level and have a glass of champagne with the rest of us?"

Narcissa's reassuring hand urged her above the table. "Word spreads quickly the famous Agent Black was returning to work, today."

With a shaking hand, Bella took the glass and downed it in one gulp. A drunken fellow Agent who she didn't recognize slurred, "Hey, superstar, I saved you tonight's edition of The Daily Prophet! It's the last of the series on Bellatrix Black: Superagent!" He chucked with a hiccup.

Bella looked down, horrified. It was true. There, in all her glory, was Bellatrix Black's picture, with the caption "Unspeakable War Hero." By Rita Skeeter.

"Gods, I hate that fucking woman! Half of this stuff is bollocks!" She cried in protest, her eyes skimming the article.

"At least it's flattering, sister!" Narcissa said, sadly. She still remained undercover, and the press was not so kind to the Malfoys.

Kingsley strode over to the gaggle collected around Bellatrix, quickly grimacing at the paper. "Have I mentioned I hate that fucking woman?" He growled.

"My sentiments exactly, Kings!" Bella said.

He put his arm on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Bella, but I think its safe to say...your cover is blown."

A gnawing pit was growing in her stomach, she was unsure why. He continued, "So, as much as you have a storied carrier in this department, Dear Bella, we're transferring you."

"What?" A chorus of protests were heard. "Bullshit!" Some drunken voice called out in the back, sounding oddly like Mad Eye Moody.

Kingsley raised his hand to silence the protests. "Besides, I think it would be good to get you out in the open, so to speak. We've been able to apprehend a few, of course..."

"Low hanging fruit!" Shouted a voice that was in fact Mad Eye Moody. Bella rushed over and embraced her gruff friend. "Good to see you again, soldier!" He whispered into her ear. She grinned back. "Bunch of pussys around here, widout ya, Bella!" He groused.

The Minister patiently waited, and said, "Anyway, There's little that strikes fear into the heart of former death eaters as the name Bellatrix Lestrange!"

"Bellatrix Black." Bella quickly corrected. "I'm widowed, remember?" She grinned.

"Of course. " He chuckled. "Anyway, we are thinking of creating a special task force, with a few of the Order of Merlin recipients under your guidance to hunt down all the remaining death eaters, Bella. Interested?"

"Maybe. Who's my second in command?"

"New Auror Fleur Delacour, actually."

Bella looked reflective. "You have yourself a deal, Kings." She said, feeling satisfied and content for the first time..in a long time. She grinned. "Ol' Fleur Delawhore, huh?"

"I...I thought you two were chummy, Bella." He said, nervously. "I mean, aren't you going to be her future child's godparent, and all?"

Bella downed another glass of champagne. "Fleur? Yep, she's like my best mate!" She gave Narcissa a meaningful look. "After family, of course. But that doesn't mean I can't give her shit, Kings."

He sighed a noticeable breath of relief, especially since Fleur was the only one unafraid and willing to work alongside the feared and now-famous Dark Auror.

**TBC.**


	19. Epilogue II

**TITLE: For The First Time**

**Author: **Ladyfun

**Pairing:** Fleurmione

**Rating**: M. Because, frankly, that's how we do business 'round here.

**Disclaimers:** All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun.

**SUMMARY**: The beginning of a love story that never really finished. This follows the prodrome of Fleur and Hermione's initial rendezvous, after they sever their ties. Later, Fleur will be unexpectedly summoned to help recover that "someone", now one of England's most famous citizens, and a former Golden Trio member. The _same one_ that broke the Veela, so long ago...the aforementioned Hermione Granger. Armed with her cigarettes and her wounded pride, she agrees to help them, against her better judgement. Endgame: Fleurmione!

**A/N: **Okay so this is really the end. Three little weeny epilogue chapters and then I'm signing off. I will save my gratuitous thank yous until the last chapter of the epilogue.

* * *

**EPILOGUE: You'll Never Walk Alone, Part II  
**Place & Time: Four Years After Graduation. London.

* * *

"Morning, Delawhore."

"Bonjour, Bitchytrix! 'ow are you?" Fleur said, in their usual bizarre morning salutations to one another. She placed her traveling robes on the hook of their shared office, and gazed over to her partner, who was hunched over something, a frown on her face.

"Wait...what are you doing? Iz zat a smart phone I zee in your 'ands?"

Bella looked defensive. "Maybe."

"Iz ze world ending?"

"Not on my watch, it isn't." Bella grumbled. "Bloody piece of shyte!" She said, pressing buttons indiscriminately.

Fleur walked over and put a gentle hand on her partners' shoulder, peering over it. "Mmmm. Hit ze button, ze one zat says, _send_." she offered.

Bella did so, grumbling. "Well, it seemed to have worked."

A beep sounded, indicating a return message. Bella's face lit up, and she laughed. "Oh, Merlin's Beard, that kid of yours...too much!" She said, chuckling.

The Frenchwoman arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrows and looked at Bella. "Wait a minute! Are you texting... Bea?"

Bella looked up, insolently. "Of course I am! Who the hell do you think gave me this piece of shit?" She immediately looked down again, chuckling at the next response.

Fleur looked furious. "Bella, it iz_ six am in ze morning_! She is _supposed_ to be sleeping!"

Bella shrugged. "It appears she takes after her restless Veela mother, one could surmise...if they were surmising, that is! Go figure!"

Agent Delacour huffed. "Oui, but I am up and restless because ze Veela in me senses zat 'ermione is _ovulating,_ and it iz all I can do to not run back home and 'ave my wicked way wiz her!"

Bella put up her hand. "Too much information, Delawhore." Bella raised her head, after a moment. "Although, out of curiosity, what **is** keeping you from doing exactly that, Fleur?"

Bella was referring, of course, to all the times she had to cover for her partner when her inner Veela got the best of her, once a month, when Hermione Granger would ovulate. Fleur could sense it, even if they were across the globe; and she would be worthless for the next twenty four hours.

Bella, being the trusted friend that she was, had become particularly adroit at covering for Fleur in her absence. And as much as the two talked about sex and women, Bella never wanted details about the famous duo's escapades in bed. She explained to Fleur that it was because it was Hermione-as though that explained it all.

Bella adored Fleur's wife, for some reason. Fleur never worried if something happened to her; she knew Bella would be there to take care of her family. She treated Hermione as though she was a piece of valuable china; and if she really wanted something from her partner, she would get Hermione to ask for it.

"Well," sighed Fleur, "We aren't telling people yet, but-"

The expression on Bella's face was comical. "_OhmyfuckingMerlin_, you two are pregnant again, aren't you?"

"Peut-être?"

"Fuck, Fleur! You're going to single-handedly overpopulation the globe, do you know that?"

Fleur's face discolored. "I can't 'elp myself, Bella. I ... I lose control, wiz my wife."

"I'm _aware_." Bella indicated, clearly amused. "Look, woman, I get it...but damn, Fleur! I'm putting my foot down - you need to enlist Potty or one of the Weasels to do Godparent duty on this one- I have my hands full with Bea and Jacques, as it is!"

"Je sais, je sais! Especially as zis time, it's iz twins..." Fleur said, appearing both guilty and overtly proud of herself.

Bella simply shook her head, looking at her friend.

Fleur grinned. "Speaking of ze Weasley bunch-"

"I didn't realize we were, Fleur." Bella interrupted.

"Well, we are! As you are aware, it iz zat time of year..."

Bella rolled her eyes. "Yes?" She said, dreading the question.

"I 'ave it on good authority, zat zis year for the 'olidays, Narcissa and Draco are 'eading to the Greengrass' estate, in ze country, for ze 'olidays, n'est-ce pas?"

"_And?_"

Fleur looked at Bella, meaningfully. "Iz zis ze year you will _finally_ accompany us, to ze burrow, for ze winter 'oliday season, Bella?"

With a look of defeated resignation, Bella sighed. There was no escape. With a groan, the dark witch agreed. "Peut-être, Fleur...peut-être."

* * *

_Place & Time: Christmastime, 2003, the Granger-Delcaour residence _

* * *

Bea was absolutely_ beside_ herself with delight.

She had her favorite aunt, her Aunt Bella, all to herself! She literally would not let Bella's hand go, and Bellatrix (rather amusedly) had to put her foot down and insist she be allowed to urinate on her own. Bea half considered denying the request, until she saw her mother's rather disapproving look.

Hermione was really beginning to show, and the twins fatigued her out more than she cared to admit. She was utterly relieved when Bella agreed to come along with them; having an extra pair of adult hands was invaluable now. She came to stay with them to help them pack a day early, and truthfully, Hermione didn't know how they would have gotten it all packed without her.

Especially since Fleur had her cornered in the hallway, while Bea was upstairs with Bella.

Hermione felt the hot breath on her neck.

"Damn it all, Fleur! We went through this last month, didn't we? I'm _already_ pregnant! You cannot make me _more_ pregnant than I already am!"

"But I smell you...ze fertility..." she said, husky. She pressed herself closer to her mate.

"Okay, that's just impossible! I'm not even ovulating, Fleur! You know why? Because I'm_ fucking pregnant_, again! Again, Fleur!" Hermione sounded exasperated.

Fleur let a sardonic grin slide along her face as she slammed her wife against the wall, her back flattening against the butternut squash colored wall. "Such language, out of ze mouth of my children's muzzer...what am I to do wiz zis?" Fleur said, as she moved in, to press her lips, hard, against Hermione's. Hermione hated the small moan that escaped from her throat.

Fleur's tongue traced the bottom of Hermione's mouth, almost insolently, as she spoke deliberately, in a low and dangerous tone. "I am_ aware_ zat you are pregnant...and you may not menstruate, but zat does not mean your zat your eggs do not still _ripen_ for me..."

Hermione almost gasped, dizzy with the thrall Fleur was emitting, as she pulled Hermione's right leg roughly around her waist. She did actually gasp, however, when Fleur pressed her center firmly into Hermione, delicately avoiding her belly. Fleur let out a small growl, while nuzzling Hermione's cheek.

"I want to..._mmm_." Fleur moaned, while she nipped her neck, leaving a mark. Fleur thrusted upwards, forcefully, into Hermione's core. "I want to .. _fuck_ you, my dear wife, up 'ere, against zis wall, right now! I am so 'ungry for you..."

As if defining the term_ coitus interruptus,_ a distinctive voice rang out in the entryway of the front hallway.

"...And 'ere we 'ave my daughter, and 'er spouse, 'ermione Granger." The formal voice said, with authority.

Fleur's head shot up, from the mark she was in the midst of leaving on Hermione's neck. "Ohmygod...Maman?" She gasped, shocked. "What are you _doing_ 'ere? We were supposed to meet at ze Burrow, tomorrow, oui?" Fleur said, startled.

Without waiting for an invitation, the regal Apollene Delacour, approached her indisposed daughter, followed in-tow, by Fleur's snickering little sister. "Er...'aloo, 'ermione." Gaby said, attempting to withhold her laughter, and waiving at her sister-in-law.

Hermione straightened up, and tried to compose herself. Detangling herself from her amorous wife, she walked to the new arrivals, and she kissed Apollene on the cheek. With a wan smile, she murmured, "Hi, Gaby! And...Hello, Mother, its nice to see you...but I did think we were meeting up at the Burrough, tomorrow, weren't we?"

Apollene raised her head. "Oui, but sat was before plans changed, slightly."

Following behind the two Delacours was a parade of beautiful people. Fleur's father, and then three more unnaturally beautiful people. Fleur furrowed her brow when another family, a family who looked vaguely familiar to her, entered their threshold.

"Fleur, do you remember ze Robilliards?"

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXX**

They were laughing and drinking wine, save Bea and Hermione, and recounting tales of their younger days. The amount of drunken Frenglish that was spoken was comical; and Bea kept looking up impatiently towards the nursery. In the amount of time it had taken to hang up their robes and open some wine, new friendships were quickly formed.

While the senior Delacours were discussing something with the Robilliards, Fleur leaned over to Gabrielle. "_Qu'est-ce qui se passe_?" Fleur hissed to her little sister, gesturing towards the additional guests.

Gaby chuckled. "C'est une longue histoire, Fleur!" Gesturing to the Robilliard's son, Arnamd, she whispered, "Je pense qu'ils essaient de me mettre en place avec lui!"

"Well, he is rather good looking, Gabrielle, don't you think?" Offered Hermione, as she took as sip of her club soda.

Fleur and Gaby looked at the former Gryffindor incredulously. "You...you speak French, belle?" Fleur asked, nervously; to which Hermione just smiled a knowing grin.

"Nous faisons aussi bien, Maman!" Bea interjected. Fleur face palmed, and Gabrielle and Apollene simply laughed. "And for what it's worth, Aunt Gaby, I don't think he's right for you."

The wine continued to flow, and Fleur spelled a cheese tray on the table. Madame Olivia Robillard was fascinated by Hermione, and the Robillards were all enthralled by meeting a member of the golden trio. Hermione was regaling them with one of her many Harry and Ron stories, while Bea just huffed, bored. She looked longingly up the stairs towards the nursery.

"What iz wrong with you, ma petit chou?" Gaby giggled, pinching Bea.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Auntie B is taking forever putting my stupid little brother down for a nap!"

Fleur gave her a look. "Jacques is not stupid, Bea, perhaps he is just enjoying ze time wiz his Aunt B wizout you monopolizing her, perhaps!"

"Or perhaps he's just stupid and fussy!" She huffed, looking up at the stairs, again.

"There is zat possibility, as well." Chuckled Armand, who was attempting to scoot his chair closer to Gabrielle's.

"Pardonnez-moi, who iz zis _Auntie B?_" Asked Mr. Robilliard, good-natured, while refilling everyone's wine glass. He nearly dropped the bottle when Bea blurted out the name.

"Bellatrix Black, my godmother, of course! She's putting my imbecile brother down for a nap...and its taking forever!" She whined in protest.

Olivia cleared her throat. "Iz zat...Mon Dieu! Iz zat ze former... _Bellatrix Lestrange_, you mean? Ze_ Death Eater_?"

The Robillards exchanged a look, having lost several extended family members during the war.

Monsieur Robillard cleared his throat, nervously. "Ze one so famous for... ze Crucio curse?" choked Mr. Robilliard.

Fleur's posture straightened, preparing to defend her friend. Apollene began to stand, as well, and was prepared to defend Bella alongside Fleur; but before either witch could open their mouths to articulate an defense, someone beat them to it.

"Oh no! _You 'ave it all wrong_, je dois vous corriger!" Gabrielle burst out, passionately. Without taking a breath, she launched into a small oratory, her cheeks flushing, slightly.

"Zat was only her undercover assignment, Madame Robilliard! She is _famous,_ absolutely famous, 'ere in England! She is one of ze most decorated veterans of ze war, in fact! Ze whole time, she was a Black Auror, undercover, during ze wizarding wars!" Gabrielle's eyes were bright and her hands gestured furiously, as she recounted all of Bellatrix's many alleged acts of bravery, and all the subsequent ones following the war with Fleur.

Passionately, she finished with, "And zen, Bellatrix found ze very last Deatz Eater, hiding in ze bottom of ze ship! He stabbed her six times! Six! One time pierced her lung! Zey say she should have died!"

"Breathe, sister, breathe!" Fleur said, amused. Not that she minded, but to hear Gaby tell it, Bella had singlehandedly won the war and captured all of the rogue villains all by her lonesome.

"But she_ insisted_ on dragging 'im in, 'erself! After she read 'im ze rights of a prisoner of war, she passed out, on ze spot!" She looked around the room, emphatically, "Have you _really_ not 'eard all of ze stories?" Gaby's eyes eventually landed on Fleur's.

Fleur had an amused grin. "I am aware, sister!" She raised her hand, semi-mockingly. "In fact, I believe I was zere, as well, as I am her Auror partner, az memory serves..."

"Oh...mais, oui. Sorry, Fleur." She smiled sheepishly.

Fleur and Apollene exchanged a look. Gabrielle, blushing, picked up her wine glass and took a generous swallow.

Bea shoveled another piece of cheese into her mouth. "So...what she said!" Bea gestured in Gaby's direction, addressing the guests. "Its fact, you know, that my Auntie B kicks some serious ass." Bea said, grinning. Her mothers looked at her, horrified. "Errr, um. I mean, of course, derriere." She said, correcting herself quickly.

A familiar voice called out as her footsteps were heard, walking down the steps.

"I leave the room for _one minute_ and the conversation degenerates to asses? What's going on?" Chuckled the former Death Eater, with a small gleeful boy bouncing on her hip.

The sight of Bellatrix Black came into view, step by step, with her interesting accessory.

She looked at Hermione apologetically. "I'm sorry, Hermione, with all the rabble rousing, he refused to go to sleep! I think he suspected there was wine to be had."

"It's the little Frenchman in him!" Mr. Delacour declared, proudly, standing up to take his grandson, who gleefully flung himself at someone who wouldn't make him take a dreaded nap.

Fleur stood up, putting her arm around her friend, and pointing out everyone at the table, and making introductions. Bella smiled, and was surprisingly engaging, charming the table. Fleur finished with the person who had been seated to her left.

"And of course, you know my ma petite soeur, Gabrielle..."

Their eyes met. Gabrielle, without thinking, stood up and crossed the room to Bella. Placing her hands on Bella's shoulders, she leaned in for the traditional French salutation. As her lips grazed Bella's cheek in greeting, they inexplicably lingered; this caused both witches to gasp, slightly.

Gabrielle demurely looked up at Bellatrix. "Bonjour, again, Bella..." She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Gaby..." Bella croaked out, her arms unconsciously sliding around the younger woman's waist. "You've _grown,_ so much..."

Fleur raised her eyebrows.

"Yes," Gaby said, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm in my first year, at université, Bella." Her hands were nervously tracing the curls on the back of Bella's neck.

"Ah. You grew up, Mademoiselle."

"Oui. It happens, to ze best of us."

Bella leaned over, whispering something into her ear, causing Gaby to blush. They exchanged a smile, oblivious to the world around them. It was only when Mr. Delacour offered, loudly, a glass of wine to Bella that their seeming trance was finally broken.

Fleur smirked, and said, "Bella, take my chair. I'm going to go upstairs and make sure all ze rooms are in order, oui?" She pulled out her chair, and gestured to Bella.

"Okay..." Bella agreed, her face feeling hot.

The two women rather awkwardly separated, and moved to sit down next to each other. Even seated, Gabrielle had yet to take her gaze off the older woman. Gaby eventually mustered up a shy smile towards her, finally. Bella returned it, as she sipped her wine, and allowed Bea to plop down, in her lap.

Bea was oblivious to the eye glances happening behind her, challenging the visitors to a game of blackjack. What she missed, behind her, was the fact seemingly that the older witch was just as smitten.

Olivia leaned over to Apollene, whispering, "Well, I zink I won't exactly start planning Gaby and Armand's wedding just yet, Apollene." She chuckled.

**XOXOXOXOOXOXOXOX**

It turns out, Ms. Robilliard's words were prophetic.

After dinner, they broke apart to do their own various things, for Fleur and Hermione included putting their two children down and packing. Bella's eyes widened when she realized she actually _needed t_o pack, herself, as well. This caused a round of amused laughter, and Hermione handed Bella an old friend - her horrendously ugly "beaded bag," the one she used on the hunt for horcruxes.

"Here, Bella. This has an -"

"_-Extention charm_. I know." She says, fondly, regarding her old friend. "It's one of the reasons I realized you were a witch to be reckoned with."

"It's just a charm!" Hermione modestly insisted.

"Non! It iz very advanced magic, 'ermione! Bella speaks ze truth." Apollene insists, coming out of Jacques' room, finally successful in putting her grandson to sleep. "I should know, Madame Granger-Delacour."

Apollene, of course, was referring to her many years in the French Foreign Legion and Ministry of Magic.

"Well, I am a Charms professor, Apollene!" Hermione says, slightly miffed. "I made that bag in my fifth year at Hogwarts! It's not that big a deal."

A gentle hand calms the brunette. Fleur lovingly strokes her mate's cheek. "Ma belle, all these years later, and you still are uncomfortable accepting a complement." She kisses her gently, on the cheek. "Its one of the many reasons I love you so."

The room is filled with Fleur's thrall, which feels light, delighted; Fleur is so content, and still so deeply in love with Hermione.

Bella shook her head, chuckling. "Well, on that note, I have to figure out a wardrobe for the next week. Remind me again why we're staying that long, Delawhore?"

"Becauze...zat iz how it works."

"Oh. How very satisfying of an explanation." Bella said, dryly, causing a round of laughter from The Granger-Delacours, Gabrielle, and Apollene. "Okay, I have to go find clothes that can withstand the effects of the various Weasley's Wizard Wheezes I'm sure they'll encounter."

"S'il vous plait, Bella...if you need some help, I...I am already packed."

Fleur's lips curved into an almost imperceptible grin. "I am sure Madam Black is all set wiz -"

"That would be really lovely, Gabrielle!" Bella interrupted, a little to eagerly. "That is, if it's okay that I borrow you, for a little bit." Bella said suddenly nervous, and looking pointedly at Apollene.

"Why not?" Apollene shrugs. "She is an excellent...packer." aApollene gave her daughter a French goodbye on the cheeks. "Have fun." She said intentionally, looking down at her grateful daughter who's eyes tell so much.

Bella turned to Hermione. "Is it okay if we use your Floo network? I think we've both had too much wine to apparate safely."

Hermione looked shocked. "How very responsible of you, Bella! Of course!" She motioned them out of the room. "But let me show you where I've hid the floo power. Bea was getting a little...rambunctious, and I found her at Weasley's Joke Shop one too many times!"

Bella, Gabrielle, and Apollene chuckled. It's a lot easier to be amused by Bea as someone who is not her immediate parent. They all walked off in a group, laughing and talking. Gabrielle, Fleur, and Hermione drift up ahead, talking animatedly; Bella and Apollene deliberately lag behind from the group.

They spoke, in low whispers.

"I'm sorry, Apollene. I feel like...I can't help myself..."

"Mmmm." Apollene murmured.

"I know its a little strange. I mean, I did the math in my head; Merlin's beard, I'm _thirty-five_ years older than she is!" As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she looked like she was going to have a full fledged panic attack.

Suddenly, her breathing is calmed by an arm that linked with hers. Apollene looked at her patiently.

"Zere is a Veela saying, Bellatrix, sat goes, "Le coeur sait ce qu'il sait." Loosely translated, it means, _the heart knows what it needs_. You have no more choice in zis, in the feelings you 'ave for my daughter, zen you do in breathing, dear friend!"

They have stopped walking, and are alone in a private bay window of the house, having lost the group.

Bella looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Apollene sighed. "I mean, old friend, zat you are my daughter's_ mate_. I zink we have all known zat, actually, for a long time! It is ze reason sat Gabrielle would never take a suitor - male or female- I zink. She has been waiting to be old enough..._for you_."

The way Apollene said the last words was so deliberate, that it threatened to send Bella into another panic attack. She began to ramble.

"But...I'm...I'm so broken, Apollene!" Her eyes looked desperate. "I'm so much older! I've been married before! I've never been in a serious relationship, really; my marriage was arraigned, and quite frankly, it was awful!" Her eyes darted back and forth between Apollene and the empty hallway, making sure they were not overheard. "And the things I feel for your daughter...the things I want...they make me feel perverse, frankly! And I..."

She is interrupted by a sharp slap to the cheek.

"Bella!" Apollene commanded. "Get ahold of yourself!" The woman is smiling, and Bella immediately silences.

"Bellatrix Black, I have no say in zis! Nor do you, really, in how Gabrielle feels about you. She is Veela, Bella, and her inner Veela has recognized its mate pair." Apollene shrugged, as it if is the most natural thing in the world.

"That doesn't seem fair...to Gabrielle." Bella grumbled. "She has her whole life ahead of her!"

Bellatrix feels her head being cradled at the chin and she is forced to look up, and look into the eyes of the fierce matriarch of the Delacour clan. "Yes, she does, Bella! And hopefully, zat life is wiz you!" She pauses, and lets it sink in. "Because she will never truly be happy wizout you, trust me...I know."

_For the first time,_ Bella allows a hint of a smile cross her lips, and the possibility of happiness enter her heart.

Satisfied, Apollene patted her on the cheek and dropped her hand. "Bellatrix, let me tell you a zing or two, about my Gabrielle." She sighed. "I have always, always worried about her." Unexplained sadness fills the woman's face. "She is so different- so radically different, zan my Fleur. Fleur was always responsible, smart, and a survivor; Gabrielle...well, she's the polar opposite. She is smart, bien sur, but...misdirected." Apollene paused, and lowered herself to sit on the bench by the bay window.

She patted it, gesturing for Bella to join her, which she did.

Apollene continued. "She seemed so lost, growing up, like she was missing a piece of her. And she had some medical issues, as well." She paused. "Bella, she never...um, menstruated."

"What?" Bella says, shocked.

Apollene nods. "We had 'er checked out, by ze best healers, and even a few muggle physicians; nothing. Zere was no explanation; all of her female parts work az zey should; but she is...infertile." Apollene chokes out. She looks pained, up at Bella, and protective at the same time. There is no mistaking the Mama Bear in Apollene.

"Iz zat a deal breaker for you, Bella?"

Bella paused, holding her friend's gaze. Apollene looked almost fearful, knowing that Bella could still walk away, and abandon her daughter regardless of this stage of the bond. Gabrielle, however, did not have that luxury.

Unexpectidly, Bella burst out into laughter. It tumbled out, filling the room with it's deep, husky sound of delight. Bella laughed so hard, in fact, that tears rolled down from her eyes.

"Excusez-moi?" Apollene asked, offended.

When Bella calmed, she finally said, "Oh, that's rich! Apollene, what part of "I'm old!" Did you not understand? I think I'm way to old to be a parent!"

Apollene shook her head. "Non, Bella, and besides, I detect your body...zere is some strange magic going on, but you are much younger san your chronological years, I suspect."

"You Veela are pretty perceptive." Bella noted, still wiping tears from her eyes. "Besides, your other daughter is so intent on single handily propagating the Delcour clan, I think it pretty safe to assume a few of us need to be exclusively babysitters, only, and not add to the fray!"

"Yes," Apollene agreed. "Fleur does seem rather single minded, in zat regard. I often feel sorry for poor 'ermione." She mused.

Bella rolls her eyes. "That's not the half of it! You haven't had to live it...my God, is that what all you Veela are like?"

"Zat is not just "Veela proclivities", Bella. Zat is Fleur! She has always been so intense, about everyzing!" Apollene recounted. "And nothing _more so_ zan her feelings towards poor 'ermione."

Bella just nodded, understanding_ exactly_ what Apollene meant.

"And Bella...Gabrielle iz not quite az goal oriented, az you are, I am afraid..."

She placed her hand on Apollene's shoulder, finally realizing the extent of her worry for her youngest daughter. Bella attempted her most reassuring smile. "Some people are late bloomers, Apollene. Not everyone has to know their destiny and purpose at birth, like Fleur, and Hermione, and frankly, Bea..."

Bella smiles to herself, thinking of Bea's insistence she is going to be an Unspeakable, someday.

They both share a chuckle.

"And you know what? Even if she never figures it out...that's okay." Bella offered, reassuringly.

"Zere is some zing else. You may not understand, as it is a Veela zing, but..." her voice breaks off. "Gaby has never transformed."

Apollene's voice was barely a whisper. Even though Bella is not a Veela, she has enough insight to know the gravity of this statement. Many, many times her ass was saved by Fleur transforming into her Veela and flying them out of a dangerous situation, or using her superhuman strength to attack when their wands had been stripped from them. To not be able to transform meant to not fully be a Veela.

Bella placed a hand on Apollene's lap. "Well, perhaps she's a late bloomer, that's all. Maybe she hasn't been exposed to an extreme enough circumstance...is that a possibility?"

"She was attacked, many times, in the second war, Bella."

"But she was a child, then, Apollene!"

"A child? Please! Bea transformed before five years of age!" Apollene said, angrily. They both paused, confused as to why they both thought that, having no direct memory of that actually occurring.

"Well..uh," Bella said, her head aching for some reason, "She is who she is...and I'm far from ideal, Apollene. All I ask is that she loves me, _for me_, Apollene. That's more than I ever thought I deserved, frankly." Bella says, quietly.

"Oh, Bella," Apollene offered, sadly. "Why must you always sell yourself so short?" Before Bella could answer, she was scooped up in a firm embrace from her mother-in-law, of sorts. Bella returned the hug, willing herself not to cry.

The moment was interrupted by a voice yelling down the hall.

"Oh, _Bitchytrix!_ Chop, chop! Let's get a move on! Zat bag iz not going to pack itself!" The task oriented voice of Fleur rings down the hall. "Get a move on! Alloynez  
laisse aller, slowpoke!"

"You see what I put up with?" Bella said, good-natured. She looked down the hall towards the voice. "Damn it, Delawhore! I'm having a moment, here!"

"Non! _No moments!" _Fleur insists. "Get your ass moving!"

Apollene hollered something in rapid fire French in response, which Bella can't follow, but it somehow silences Fleur, temporarily. Bella sighs, and stands up. "Thank you, Apollene."

The matriarch smiles. "De rien, old friend." She pats Bella with finality. "And, for what its worth, I have always suspected, about you. You've never been affected by Veela thrall, either positively or negatively; zat only happens with a soul that knows its heart is already taken." She smiled, wisely. "You've been like zat, since day one...zat's why you were such a good, genuine friend to Fleur! You weren't affected by her thrall, in ze least. I always thought it curious, especially when your love never seemed to manifest, in all zee years."

Bella looked surprised.

"Don't you see? Dear Bella, you were waiting... for Gaby! You were waiting for her, to be _old enough_."

Bella's eyes widened. _Was it true?_ She wondered. Deep inside, Bella knew the answer to her question. She's always known the answer to her question, actually.

Imperceptibly, Apollene nodded. "I could not ask for a _better_ mate specifically for my youngest daughter." She looks at Bella meaningfully in the eyes. "I never realized it, but you're perfect for her."

Bella shrugs. "Le coeur sait ce qu'il sait." She offers, with a passable French accent. "Thank you, Apollene. This meant a lot, to me."

The former dark witch smiles, and turns to go, holding the ugly bag in her hand, heading down the hallway to join her friend in locating the Floo powder.

* * *

_Christmastime, 2003, The Black Winter Mansion_

* * *

Bellatrix and Gabrielle, finally alone, had bustled about the mansion, nervously gathering up things to pack when a oddly-dressed House elf appeared, with a very disapproving look on her face.

"Missus Bella!" She said, gravely. "What are you doing?"

"Um... packing, Winkie?"

Winkie the house elf just shook her head. Wordlessly, she pointed to a stack of neatly folded clothes, and toiletries, and on top, an oddly wrapped present.

"What's that, Winkie?"

"Is Missus referring to the stack of clothes I laid out for you, a week ago, or the ugly package that arrived by owl this morning?"

Bella chuckled. "What would I do without you, Winkie?" She said, as she placed them neatly into the famous beaded bag.

"I shudder to think, Missus."

They were interrupted by a tapping on the window. It was an owl, with another oddly wrapped package. Winkie frowned, as she retrieved it, shooing away the rude bird. Winkie read the label.

"It's addressed to you, Miss Gabrielle." Winkie said.

Gaby looked shocked. "It is?" She paused, realizing something. "Wait a minute...you ... you just read the label?"

"How else would I know who it goes to?" Winkie asked.

"But...you can read!" Gaby said, shocked.

Winkie rolled her eyes. "Of course I can!" She answered. "It is a requirement of Missus Black's employ. All of her house elves read." She said with pride. "She taught me, personally, and I bring the others up to speed."

Gaby looked at the former Death Eater, surprise on her face. Bella blushed, her eyes avoiding her younger guests' curious glance. Bella grumbled, "What are you doing here, anyway, Winkie? I thought I told you-"

"Yes, yes, yes...but the younger ones," she said, meaningfully,"Have something they wanted to give you. Would now be fine?"

"Sure, I guess."

Winkie snapped her fingers, and in paraded dozens of house elves, all dressed equally bizarrely, all wearing matching hats and mittens. The smallest of them was practically vibrating with excitement, as he handed her a package.

She opened it gingerly, and it was a hat, that matched theirs.

The youngest whispered. "We all made it, to match the ones you gave us, Missus Bella!" He said, excited. "But this one is special. Wear it for protection, when you need it."

Tears sprung to her eyes, and she uttered a genuine thanks, and moved down to hug them all, as they closed in on their mistress. Winkie stayed behind, standing next to Gabrielle, who made a sudden realization.

"Wait a minute...the clothes. Ze strange clothes...you are all free!" She said with a quiet gasp, to Winikie.

"Of course we are! Missus Bellatrix freed us, the old guard, years ago! The rest have come to us, one by one, when they were abused in...other placements."

Gaby shook her head. "She never ceases to surprise and amaze me. Elle est une femme incroyable..."

Winkie nodded. "She is. We love her, and we would give our life for her." She says, emphatically. "I was starved to death in the Crouch residence, until she took me from them, despite their protests-who would argue with the fiercest lieutenant of the Dark Lord? No one! Once here, I thought it was the end. I knew of her torture methods. She was frightening, back then. But, much to my shock, she saved my life! She was so kind to me, and far from the dark witch everyone presumed her to be. I was the first."

Gaby nodded, the seriousness of the confession.

"Her friend, Hermione, would keep sending her house-elves that she rescued, and this home," she gestured around, "is known in our world as a place you can go to be safe! She is loved, almost as much as Hermione Granger is loved, by my kind. Which is why, Veela, that if you _ever_ hurt her, or you break her heart..." Winkie said, in a voice quickly becoming menacing.

Gaby raised her hand. "Do not worry on zat end, Winkie." Gaby said, in quick reassurance. "Bella is my...mate." She admitted, simply. Her voice was shaking, hearing it for the first time out loud. She collected her nerves, and continued. "It is far more likely zat ze _non-Veela_ mate will hurt ze Veela one. "

Winkie listened, patiently.

Gaby continues, quietly, unable to be heard by the rambunctious group around Bella, with their raucous laughter as they tackled her, pinning her down. "And even zou I am n_ot much_ of a Veela, I am enough of one zat it iz in my blood to ensure zat I will die, wizout her..."

Winkie gently takes her hand. "Oh, young Missus Gabrielle." She chuckles. "Don't you realize that you are the _most powerful_ Veela of them all?"

She looks confused. "You must be mistaken, or zinking of my soeur, Fleur, or Maman."

Winkie looks reflective. "It is true, Fleur is a formidable creature, no doubt; rare for someone only 1/4 Veela." She shakes her head. "As is Apollene, a frequent guest here...but, no, young Gabrielle, it is _you_ that is spoken of, in the wind."

She looks confused. "Me?"

Winkie pauses. "You'll figure it out, in due time, child! Don't sell yourself short, like your mate does."

"I zink...I zink you are confused, Winkie."

Winkie looks offended. "Missus Gabrielle, all due respect...but Elvin magic is the oldest of all! It predates Veela magic and certainly human magic! I know of what I speak."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOOXOX**

They finally usher them out, the elves that are going on their Christmas vacation to a water park in America; even Winkie was excited. Bella explained in a casual shrug to Gabrielle, "why keep them here while I'm at the burrow for a week? The weather is totally depressing, right now!"

"Izn't ze weather always depressing, here, my Bella?" Giggles Gabrielle.

Bella looks at the young girl. "I like it when you say that."

"Say what? The weaker is depressing?"

"No, goof! _ My Bella._ I like it. It's ... sweet."

Gaby smiles, a dazzling smile, sending off pheromones unexpectedly. Bella feels the swirl of Gabrielle's thrall as its blankets around her _for the first time. _Her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head as a heat flushed her, and a wave of desire shoots straight to her core. It is comforting but disorienting, all at the same time.

"Wow..." said Bella. "You, um...I guess that's your thrall, Gaby?"

"I...zink, oui." She says, frowning. "I...I have not ever...released a thrall, before."

"Really? Fleur sends it off like candy at Halloween!"

"No." Gaby says quietly. "Not me. I never ..." her voice trails off. "Did it work, on you, Bella? My sister's thall?" She says, quietly.

Bella looks at the insecure young Veela sitting next to her, on her bed. She chuckles. "_Ol' Delawhore's_ thrall? That old thing? She wishes it did!" Bella says, with her typical swagger. She then shifts to face Gabrielle.

"Never, Gaby, not once. No, Gaby, the first time I've ever felt something like that...was just now." She replied. Gaby searches her face, trying to asses the veracity of her statement. Shocked, she realizes that her Bella is telling the truth.

"Really?" She says, pleased.

"Really. The only time I've ever ... the only person I can honestly say I've ever wanted, Gabrielle Delacour, is ... you."

Gaby lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, and she launches herself into the arms of the woman next to her. Furiously, she kisses her dark witch; their first real kiss is not delicate or perfect; it is sloppy, wet, and messy...but incredibly passionate.

Bella lets out a moan, as her arms reach up to grab Gaby on her sides; she moans again as she pushes her down on her bed, and mounts her.

She moans a third time, as Gaby explores her mouth with her tongue; it somehow makes what their about to do seem suddenly real.

Bella's hands are everywhere, desperately touching her young mate underneath her. When they land on Gaby's fully clothed right breast, and they squeeze and knead the pliant flesh underneath, it is Gaby's turn to moan. She throws her head back, and keens her chest into Bella's hand, arching up.

She is panting, actually, and Bella uses the opportunity to put her mouth on Gaby's elegant neck, and bite her, and suck until she marks the delicate flesh. Gaby's hands scramble, desperately trying to undress the witch above her, wanting to feel her naked against her own body.

She has never wanted anything ever as much as she wants Bellatrix Black in this moment.

She doesn't realize that her eyes have started to have golden flecks of red and gold in them or that her fingers have elongated slightly; she doesn't realize that a golden haze has envolved them, signaling their bonding has started. Neither woman is aware of much, other than the need to feel more, touch more, have more of the other woman.

Gaby barely registers Bella's low growl in her ear, as she feels Bella fully mount her and press their clothed centers together. She vaguely registers Bella moaning into her ear, "Ungh Gods...Gaby! I want you, so fucking much...I want to do such dirty things, to you..."

_"Yes._." Moans Gaby, in reply, as she finally just tears Bella's clothes off her back with a strength she was unaware she possessed. "I want you to do zem to me.."

_"Depraved_ things, Gaby..."

"Yes.." She utters, as she lifts her back to allow Bella to pull off her dress. Suddenly, they realized they were both naked, completely; Bella pressed into her, their bodies connecting _for the first time_, without barriers.

"Oh, fucking...ohhh, Gaby..." Bella says, her mouth quickly on the young woman's lips.

They are rocking into each other, and Bella can feel the wetness of the woman below her; she is so aroused that a small collection of fluid has pooled underneath Gaby, below her legs.

Gaby pulls away from Bella. "I am so wet, for you, Bella." She says, with a growl. "No forplay...I will die, soon, if you don't...I...I need you in me, now!" She demands, erratically.

Bella looks at her darkly, nodding in understanding.

She lines three fingers at Gaby's entrance, while her thumb kneads the swollen bead above it, causing Gaby to tremble and moan, closing her eyes and gasping. Still, Bella pauses, uncertain.

"Are you sure, Gabrielle?"

"Bloody 'ell, Bellatrix! What iz unclear? _ I need you to fuck me_, right now, right this second! Fuck me, damn you!" Her eyes are wild and dark, and Bella barely recognizes them.

Bella practically comes herself, as she jams her three fingers into Gaby, _deep_ inside Gabrielle's wet entrance.

Gaby throws back her head, and cries out, her beautiful neck arching and her eyes closed.

Bella's eyes widen, as she notes the blood trickling around her fingers as she pulls out; she's never been with a virgin, before. Not even when she lost her own virginity. It arouses Bella, intensely, to think of taking this from Gaby; being the only one who will ever have her, like this. The only one to know what it feels like to enter her..._ever._

She thrusts back in again, but curls her fingertips slightly, finding a rough patch deep inside the young Veela that causes her to buck. Bella smiles a knowing grin, and pulls out and thrusts back in, hitting that patch, over and over, as Gaby digs her talons into Bella's back, scratching it, slightly.

"_Fuck me_...!" Gasps the young Veela. "Harder!"

Bella complies, moving her arm with a fury, her fingers entering Gaby's battered opening at a punishing tempo; the Veela's arousal simply increases, and continues to slick the channel as Bella maintains the grueling force . She continues to enter Gaby, over and over, bringing her to the brink.

All of a sudden, it hits her with such power, she can't control herself, and she screams as she digs her talons deep into Bella back, this time, drawing blood.

Bella hisses, but doesn't stop, and Gabrielle is bucking wildly underneath her, swearing incoherently, and moaning obscenely. Her hips and pelvis are moving in a way that's absolutely pornographic, and Bella's nipples harden as she watches her buck under her ministrations and feels the thrall fill her senses.

Gaby has lost control of her thrall, and is driving Bella insane. It causes her to increase her tempo, again, despite the fact Gaby has obviously finished. Bella swoops down, while pistoning in and out of her young mate, and places her lips on Gaby's swollen clit.

She sucks it, unrepentant, causing Gabrielle to moan and emit even more thrall. Bella loses it,

When she finally stills, Bella pulls out of her, and waits. Gaby exhales, and finally opens her eyes to look at the dark witch mounted above her. Bella grins, and deliberately puts her fingers in her mouth, and sucks Gabrielle's blood, arousal and other juices off of them, with a smirk; Gaby watches, spellbound.

Gabrielle thinks it is the sexiest thing she has seen, in her_ entire_ life.

**TBC.**

_One chapter left..._


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